Wild Roses
by x-MissChief-x
Summary: That place was cursed - they were cursed; There is no escaping destiny. Some people just aren't meant to live happy lives. They were the Wild Roses, and as the song goes "all beauty must die"... ROMY Very A/U No Powers
1. The Monkey

A/N: Soooo… this is my first fic! I'm not giving away too much at the moment, but it is a concept that has been done many times before - so I thought I would give it a go, lol!

Please, please, please give it a try!

Disclaimer: well put it this way, the day I own this is the day I dance naked through Buckingham Palace, covered in cranberry sauce and singing "My Heart Will Go On". To put it plainly; that's never! Lol!

Oh, and I don't own any songs used either!

A/N 2: Well, this first chapter does not really involve any of the main characters, but it is crucial to the story. So, if you are reading, please give it a few chapters before you make up your mind. I would also like to ask you to pay close attention to the song lyrics, if I put them in, I put them in for a reason - pretty please!

* * *

**__**

**_The Monkey_**

_"Me and My Monkey" _by Robbie Williams

They were brothers, John and Bobby, but the two siblings were completely different. Bobby, the youngest of the pair, was the model student; he had good grades, good friends and a particular devotion to the ones he loved. John, however, was Bobby's complete opposite; he never bothered to turn up to his classes, he was forever grounded and lets just say that his friends were less than desirable. While Bobby would spent his time working furiously in the corner of the library, returning home in time for one of his mother's home cooked meals; John would stay out, breaking curfew and partaking in illegal activities. Bobby was loved, John was not.

_There was, me and my monkey_

_Him with his dungarees and rollerblades…"_

**Bobby POV**

He was back, Johnny was back. The last time Bobby had seen his brother was eleven years ago. Bobby had been fourteen years old and he idolised his older brother. It was 2:30 am before Bobby heard John making his way towards their shared bedroom, evidently trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake their parents. Needless to say; he failed in doing so - as always.

"What the hell do you think your doing, young man! What time do you call this?" was their father's greeting as he and their mother came bundling through the bedroom door.

Thus the inevitable argument begun, regular as clockwork and as predictable as the A grade Bobby would get on his next assignment. It carried on through the night until those nine little words were spat at John;

"Why can't you be more like your brother, Bobby?!" and then, just as he did every other night before that, John silently turned his back on his parents and crawled into bed. Believing they had won the pyjama clad pair made their way back to he master bedroom, with the promise that "They would discuss this in the morning."

But John was not there come morning, nor did he come home that day or night or the nights following. For the next eleven years the only contact Bobby had with his brother were Christmas and Birthday cards - that he had to keep a secret from their parents - and a handful of phone calls. One received the night of Bobby's wedding and the other just after the birth of his daughter, each only three words "Congrats little Bro" before faced with the dial tone.

But now Johnny was back.

**John POV**

It was over, he knew he was done. The only logical thing to do was to go back to where it all began. To see Bobby. At sixteen years old John had turned his back on his little brother, Bobby, the good son. It was April 14th, the day his history teacher finally had enough of John continuously bunking school, the day he got expelled. Not that John cared much though, he had always felt that his future would have nothing to do with academia. But his parents would crucify him when he got home. So he stayed out and got pissed with his mates. At midnight they stumbled on some cans marked 'flammable', they were all too off their faces to identify the substance - but they got the general gist of what it was. So they doused the history block and John took out his lighter and finished the job.

When he got home his parents were on his case about breaking curfew, but he couldn't even manage to care anymore. It was as though something inside of him had snapped the moment he picked up the lighter. He knew what he did was wrong and he didn't even care.

It was those nine little words that did it; "Why can't you be more like your brother, Bobby?!" He finally realised who he was. He couldn't even look at Bobby anymore, he felt to ashamed. He wasn't even guilty at what he had done. So he left, went to the city, occasionally sending cards for Bobby's Birthday and Christmas. But he never gave any contact details, he did not wish for his decent law abiding brother to know what he had become.

John, however, still kept a close eye on little Bobby though - just as he always had done when they were younger. He watched from a distance as the quiet little kid he had once saved from bullies, grew into a young man and created a family of his own. Living the perfect life.

And now, here he was; at the age of twenty-seven knocking on Bobby's door. Not asking for help, forgiveness or even offering an explanation for his absence. Just asking for Bobby's trust.

"…_Smoking filter tips and reclining in the passenger seat_

_Of my super-charged, jet black, Chevrolet…"_

**Bobby's POV**

I was shocked when I opened the door of our small house to discover my long absent brother. God I had waited so long to see him! He hadn't changed, a little taller, a little slimmer and a lot more rugged perhaps - but still the same Johnny, complete with that unmistakable mischievous glint in his eye.

I did not ask questions - why break the habit of a lifetime? I just followed. There was a time when I would of followed him anywhere, apparently I had not grown out of it.

So there he is, smoking cigars in my passenger seat, seat-belt undone (A?N: naughty, naughty!) and screeching along to some rock song blasting on the radio. Just like the old days.

"…_He had the soft top down  
He liked the wind in his face…"_

**John's POV**

He keeps calling me Johnny. God, it's been so long since someone has called me that, it brings back memories. I allow myself to revel in them for a moment or two before I remember that I am not Johnny anymore. I am John Allerdyce, St John to those who know of my 'work'. But I cannot allow myself to remember, so I change the subject.

I tell him we are headed to Vegas and he doesn't argue. He never did. Always following me like a lost puppy, letting me order him around, poor kid.

"_He said son, you ever been to Vegas?  
I said no he said thats where were gonna go,  
You need a change of place"  
_

**Bobby POV**

Vegas, huh? Typical Johnny.

"…_And when we hit the strip with all the wedding chapels  
And the neon signs he said  
i left my wallet in el segundo  
And proceeded to take two grand of mine…"_

**Bobby POV**

Surprise, surprise; Johnny needs money! I guess people really don't change.

I go to the cash machine and phone home, telling my wife that I'm staying with a friend whose wife has just left him. I would never lie to my wife, but Johnny needs my help. The closer I look at him, the worse he looks; black bags under his bloodshot eyes, tired looking clothes and shaky hands. Besides, Marie doesn't even know that I have a brother. After Johnny left Mum and Dad just stopped talking about him - as though pretending that he never existed would make it hurt less.

I'll only stay a couple of days, just until Johnny is settled. After all of the times he helped me when we were children, I think I owe him.

**John's POV**

God, it's like I'm sixteen again, scrounging money of my little brother. But I will pay him back - this time. I just need to find Sunshine and collect what Essex owes me. I promise, I'm going to make it all better, make everything up, pay all of my debts…

God, Vegas is intoxicating. Just driving through excites me. The thrill of promise woven with the unmistakable scent of loss…

God, I need a drink…

"…_We made tracks to the Mandalay Bay Hotel  
Asked the bell boy if he'd take me and my monkey as well  
He looked in the passenger seat of my car  
And with a smile he said  
if your monkeys got that kind of money sir,  
And we've got a monkey bed…"  
_

**John's POV**

I book a suit at the Mandalay Bay Hotel, no point doing things by halve, right? And besides, I'll pay Bobby back.

**Bobby POV**

I want to believe him, but I really need that money. It hasn't been a good month for us, especially as we are expecting our second; a boy this time - I was thinking of calling him John.

"…_Me and monkey  
With a dream and a gun  
Hoping my monkey  
Dont point that gun at anyone  
Me and monkey  
Like butch and the sundance kid  
Trying to understand  
Why he did what he did  
Why he did what he did…"_

**John's POV**

As we walk across the lobby, I keep my gun held tightly at my side - just out of view but poised for a attack. After all, I am a marked man…

**Bobby's POV**

Holy mother of… crap… shit…what the… bloody hell… sweet Jesus! John has a gun! What on earth is going on?

"…_And at the elevator I hit the 33rd floor  
He had a room up top with a panoramic view  
Its like nothing you've ever seen before…"  
_**John's POV**

I just about made it through the door before it happened. They were there, in my head - their faces swimming backwards and forwards in front of my eyes. I feel the bile rise in my throat and lunch for the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

I let my guard down.

**Bobby POV**

I wait to ask Johnny about the gun. Wait until the bell boy is safely back in the elevator. But as I turn to my brother he goes as pale as the dead. Eyes unfocussed, he clamps a hand over his mouth and barricades himself in the en-suite. I knock on the door to see if he is okay, but the only response I receive is a string of curses interspersed with dry heaves.

"…_He went to sleep in the bidet and when he awoke  
He ran his little monkey fingers through yellow pages  
Called up some escort services and ordered some okey-doke…"_

**John's POV**

I finally finish emptying my stomach. I'm shaking all over, sweating and there's that cold feeling in my stomach - guilt. Their faces are still flashing in front of my eyes, so angelic and unsuspecting. In desperation I grab a couple of pills and a bottle of scotch out of my bag. Bobby is still waiting outside and I can't let him see me like this. The pills and half the bottle are gone in ten seconds and already the images are starting to fade. As I let that familiar numbness overtake my me, I put a couple more pills and the rest of the scotch in my pocket - just in case I need them later. My finger catches something and I pull out a card with nothing but a number on it. Sunshine.

**Bobby's POV**

Twenty minutes later and Johnny comes blundering out of the toilet and grabs my phone. He calls the number on the card and states our room number to the person on the other end. As he ends the call, he lights another cigar and makes his way towards the balcony.

"Johnny are you alright? What's going on?"

He pauses for a second and looks into my eyes and for the first time I notice that their sparkle is more of a dull thud.

"Never dance with Wild Roses my friend." is his only reply.

"…_Forty minutes later there came a knock at the door  
In walked this big bad ass baboon into my bedroom with three monkey whore_

_'Hi! My name is Sunshine - these are my girls  
Lace my palm with silver baby and oh yeah, they'll rock your world'…"_

**Bobby's POV**

After forty minutes of trying to get anything else out of John and I'm just about ready to give up. Then the door to our suite opens, revealing a rather tall, but rather fat man. Three of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen file in behind him, all dressed in long trench coats.

"Sunshine, your looking good." Johnny greets the man by shaking his hand.

"Amazing what you can afford once you wipe out the competition." The man replies before bringing his briefcase up to Johnny's eye level and opening it.

I do not believe my eyes. Money. Lots of money. Great bundles of fifties all stacked neatly inside Sunshine's briefcase. Which John takes - leaving it open - and places it on the table, in front of the television.

With that, Sunshine nods his head in the direction of the three girls; who promptly undo their coats, letting them pool at their feet to reveal that they are wearing nothing but matching black bra and underwear sets with thigh-high boots.

"An added bonus." Sunshine smirks and Johnny directs the girls into the bedroom, closing the door behind them. Sunshine promptly pulls a chair up outside the door and yells;

"You got one hour St John, we're on a schedule!"

I turn and walk back towards the balcony. What the hell is going on here?

**John's POV**

Sunshine brought the money - and hookers. I'm not really the type of guy that goes with a girl - or three - that is there for the buying. But, then again, I don't really know what type of a guy I am anymore. So I accept the offer. God knows I'm only saving them from an hour in some grubby motel room with Sunshine for company.

I look at the girls closely when we get in the room. The blonde and the brunette are standing slightly behind the red-head - whose hair is actually black, but the dye doesn't quite hide the orange glow of her roots. God I know that behaviour; protect the younger ones, let the most experienced take the brunt of it all.

Before I can stop it, its happening again. The red-head morphs into her; the auburn haired beauty with those mysterious white stripes. The bile hits the back of my throat faster than before and I just about manage to turn away as my body starts to shake. The girls squeal and leave before Sunshine's head pokes through the door.

"_..So I watched pay-per-view and polished my shoes and my gun  
Was diggin' old Kurt Cobain singing 'bout lithium  
There came a knock at the door and in walked Sunshine  
'What's up? You'd better get your ass in here boy, your monkey's having too much of a goodtime!'.."_

**Bobby's POV**

They had barely been in there for ten minutes before the girls came bundling out. Sunshine, forcefully, grabs the blonde's arm and demands to know what's going on. Before I can react, the raven haired beauty steps in-between the pair, successfully preventing Sunshine from hurting the timid, blonde girl.

"We don't **do** junkies!" is al she said, before rounding p her two companions and heading towards the door.

Sunshine sticks his head into the bedroom and whistles for my attention. As I make my way over, he begins to head for the door - pausing briefly to collect a few stacks of money from the open briefcase.

"Better get your ass in there boy. Looks like the Saint is high"

"…_Me and my monkey  
Drove in search of the sun  
Me and my monkey  
Don't point that gun at anyone  
Me and my monkey  
Like Billy The Kid  
Trying to understand why he did what he did  
Why he did what he did…"_

**Bobby' POV**

Sunshine was right. John's a mess; curled up in ball in the corner of the bedroom, in a pile of his own sick. I pull him up and undress him, leaving him with only his boxers - in an attempt to restore some of his dignity. I tuck him into the bed and begin to clear up the mess he made. I wish I could say this was the first time I've ever had to clear up my own brother's sick. But in reality, it's just like being fourteen again - except now Johnny's in trouble and I'm not sure I can help him.

It takes me almost five minutes to realise that Johnny is crying. But I don't go to comfort him, I can't. I just don't know what to do anymore.

**John's POV**

I'm a mess. I'm shaking uncontrollably, I can't even pick myself up. I just sit there in my own mess waiting for Bobby to pick up the pieces - just like old times. I'd be more humiliated that I need my little brother to undress me and tuck me into bed, if I could just make them go away! Their faces staring at me from inside my own head, haunting me.

I just about hold it together, waiting for Bobby to turn away and start to clear up the mess I made, before letting the tears trop. Each one falling for my guilt, for their lost innocence and for the curse that will plague us all.

Why did I get Bobby involved?

"…_Got tickets to see Sheena Easton, the monkey was high  
Said it was a burning ambition to see her before he died  
We left before encores, he couldn't sit still  
Sheena was a blast baby but my monkey was ill  
We went to play black-jack, kept hitting twenty three…"_

**Bobby POV**

I left John to cry himself to sleep and went to phone Marie, told her I was coming home first thing in the morning. John be damned, I'd see him through the night and then let him sought himself out. I can't just abandon my daughter and pregnant wife. Wow, I guess I have grown up.

I put on the TV and fall asleep on the couch. At nine o'clock, in the evening, I get woken up by John moving about. He throws my coat at me and announces;

"It's time to see Vegas, little Bro!"

His pupils are dilated and his cheeks are pinker than usual. I guess he's high, again.

**John POV**

My dreams are filled with strobe lights, naked bodies gliding around gleaming silver poles and flames. Flames engulfing them all.

I wake up and for the first time in weeks my head is clear. And I can't stand it. I reach into my pocket and down the rest of the pills and scotch. I can't even stay sober for Bobby's sake and what's worse is that I don't even care.

I can't stay in the room any longer, the stench of the hookers' cheap perfume is making me feel ill. As I make my way towards the balcony, I notice the money on the table. The blood money. Before I realise what I am doing, I reach for my lighter - ready to torch the lot. But she is not there; she's buried deep in the wreckage of 'The Rose Garden'. If I can't torch the stuff, then I'll make it disappear. I never was any good at gambling…

"…_Couldn't help but notice this Mexican just staring at me  
Or was it my monkey? I couldn't be sure  
It's not like you'd never seen a monkey in rollerblades and dungarees before…"_

**Bobby's POV**

I went with John to make sure that he didn't get himself killed and now I'm stuck, watching him bet large wads of Sunshine's money on Blackjack - only to hit 23 every time.

It took me about an hour to notice the tall muscle-clad guy staring at me - or was it John, I couldn't be sure, it's not like he has never seen a gambler down on his luck before. Now I can't help but stare at him. He is making me nervous. I'm so preoccupied that I don't notice what John is saying to me before he gets up and walks out of the casino.

So I follow.

**John's POV**

The money's evaporating faster than I thought it would and I recognise the sign. If the curse was still taunting me the money would still be here to remind me of what I did. But for the first time in weeks, something is going my way. It means that I'm near an end, it's almost over. I look around and there he is; sitting there, bold as brass, as big and hairy as a gorilla with his blonde mane pulled into a neat pony-tail at the base of his neck. Victor Creed, come to put me out of my misery.

"Go back to the room and don't wait up for me." I tell Bobby before leading Creed to the back of the casino. It's nearly over.

"…_Now don't test my patience 'cause we're not about to run  
That's a bad ass monkey boy and he's packing a gun…"_

**John's POV**

As I turn to face Creed's gun, I notice Bobby; sweet, innocent Bobby. He can't be here, he shouldn't be here!

I beg him to leave but he just continues to yell at Creed. He doesn't understand that I did this. I deserve this. My God, he is going to get himself killed.

_'"…My name is Rodriguez', he says with death in his eye  
'I've been chasing you for a long time amigos, and now your monkey's gonna die!'…"_

"No, wait! What are you doing? Leave Johnny alone! Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Bobby, go please…"

"My name is Creed pip-squeak and St John-the Avenger took something very important to Mr Lensher."

"I don't care, just for god's sake put the gun away! You can't just go around shooting people, let's just talk about this!"

"Bobby, leave it and go home…"

"Enough! Who is this Allerdyce?"

"Please Creed! Bobby just…"

"I'm Bobby and that man your pointing your gun at is my brother! So if you wouldn't mind explaining to me what this is all bout…"

"Oh, God Bobby, what did you do?"

"Well Bobby, I've been chasing you and your … _brother?…_here for a long time. And now your both going to die!"

"Please Creed! No, not Bobby! For God's sake he's innocent! I only brought him here to say goodbye, don't make him pay for my greed!"

With that merciless laughter cut through the air, accompanied by two gun shots. Two bodies fell. The curse was fulfilled. Creed left to collect his bounty, stepping over the corpses of the embracing brothers.

"…_Me and my monkey  
drove in search of the sun  
Now me and my monkey  
We don't wanna kill no mexican  
But we've got ten itchy fingers  
and one thing to declare  
When the monkey is high  
you do not stare, you do not stare  
you do not stare…"  
_

"…_Looks like we've got ourselves a mexican standoff here boy _

And I ain't about to run  
Put your gun down, boy

How did I get mixed up with this fucking monkey anyhow?" 

A/N: So, what do you think? The rest of the story will focus in the events that led up to this. It all surrounds six girls and a seedy club called "The Rose Garden"

Please review! I really would love some feed back!


	2. Where The Wild Roses Grow, part 1 redo

_**Where The Wild Roses Grow**_

A/N: Soooo... here it is, the second instalment, hope you like it! I have corrected the spelling and gramma errors now! Sorry abot that! Lol

I'd just like to say hello to **allyg1990. **Thank you for reviewing! I think, you will be happy to know that this story is indeed a ROMY, but it will take a while for Remy to show up! Lol! Oh, and hi to **Pyromaniac **as well! Please keep reading and reviewing!

Disclaimer: Surely you get the point by now! Not mine, never has been, never will be!

_**Where The Wild Roses Grow**_

_**Part One**_

_**Previously:**_

_With that merciless laughter cut through the air, accompanied by two gun shots. Two bodies fell. The curse was fulfilled. Creed left to collect his bounty, stepping over the corpses of the embracing brothers._

**One year before…**

Katherine Pryde was a confident girl - scratch that; a confident WOMAN. She walked around with her head held high and a smile on her face. She made friends easily and was not disliked by anybody. But, in her opinion, her most vital success was her ability to solve any problem. Which is why she is here, standing in the doorway to one of the most successful clubs in the city - The Rose Garden.

Katherine - or Kitty as she liked to be referred to - had only ever been to the Garden once before; for her audition - where she was hired on the spot. At first it had seemed like the dream job, she would be doing what she was best at, earning great money and she would not have to worry about renting an apartment. But now that she was here - when the club was in full swing, encased by the shadows of the night - she was not entirely certain that she had made the correct decision.

The place was packed; every stool at the bar was filled, every table and chair was occupied and there were even many customers standing around the walls. Smoke drifted around, softening the feature of the room, accompanying the many lights to give the entire place a mysterious glow. Around the room there were small podiums, each holding three or four girls dressed in matching red bikinis - dancing for the enjoyment of the punters. But all eyes were on the centre stage, which protruded from the back wall and was circled by tables and chair to seat the audience. At the end of the stage was a single pole - that Kitty had danced around for her audition - which currently held a goddess.

She was beautiful. Dainty feet encased in emerald-green stilettos, gliding gracefully across the stage. Milky, impossibly long legs wrapped around the harsh steel of the pole, leading up to faultlessly formed hips. Her tiny waist shimmering elegantly to the beat of the music, hypnotising her fans with the large expanse of creamy skin. Her perfect breasts were encased in a halter-neck, jewelled, emerald bra - that appeared to be made out of the finest china rather than material, so that framed her assets. From her hips hung a matching loincloth of silk that consisted of two panels held together with a single metal chain that stretched across her hips. The first panel covered the front of her body, pooling at her feet and the second at the back; leaving her legs entirely exposed - with the silk only covering her most intimate areas. Her tousled auburn locks flowed gracefully over her exposed shoulders. Two strands of pure platinum framed her face. Highlighting her dazzling emerald eyes. Her make-up was faultless, heavily smothering her face. But unlike most girls this dark mask enhanced her features rather than ruining them.

However it was not the mysterious dancer's stunning appearance that caught Kitty's eye. It was the way she danced; so poised, so graceful, so seductive - like she was trying to charm her audience. It was working. Every man in the place was completely enthralled with the beauty, avidly watching as she enticingly swayed her hips to the beat of the song - effortlessly gliding around the gleaming pole. Kitty had trained to be a dancer her entire life, yet still she had never seen someone move as completely as this. Her style was no different than one Kitty had used at her audition; their movements were practically identical, yet they could not have been more different. Kitty performed every part of a dance with perfection; every move was correct and precise. But the mysterious beauty danced with emotion; passion and desire burning through her body moving it as easily as water making the moves impossible to distinguish from each other. She made everyone watching feel as though they were the only person in the room - their own private viewing.

Kitty was sure she would never be able to dance with that level of sensuality. Hence the sudden sense of panic currently coursing through her body. What was she, the small town virgin, doing in here. It was surely a mistake that they had hired her, there was no way on earth that she would ever be capable of dancing with that level of …sexuality.

"Katherine Pryde?" She almost jumped out of her skin as she felt a small hand encase her shoulder.

She turned to face the tanned woman behind her. She was at least a couple of inches taller than Kitty and at least ten years senior. But she was stunning none the less. Her slender frame was wrapped in a slinky black evening dress, coated in tiny diamonds. Her shocking white hair hung straight around the soft feature of her face. She looked friendly and comforting; immediately putting Kitty at ease, allowing her to paste a shaky smile on her face as she nodded in response.

"I'm Ororo Monroe, the manager of The Rose Garden. Mr Lensher has requested that you attend a meeting in his office before you are introduced the rest of the girls. If you would like to follow me…"

With that, Ororo glided across the room towards an ornate door to the left of the centre stage. Kitty obediently followed, nervously glancing at the stage as she passed. The Mysterious girl had begun to descend the stairs, making her way towards a group of men. All eyes followed her and as the ornate door swung to a close behind kitty, she saw her begin to dance for a gentleman who was holding a large bundle of notes.

* * *

"You look nervous." Ororo stated as they walked down the long hall. How many scared young girls had she seen walk the same path as this pretty little thing? 

The hall was carpeted in a rich red, encased by cream walls. This was accented by the dark wood of seven doors; four - including the one they had just walked through - lined the wall to their left, two lay equally spaced along the right wall and the last was placed at the end of the grand hallway.

"I suppose, I am. I guess I'm just wondering if this is really like the right job for me." Kitty replied while unconsciously tugging at the sleeves of her dusky pink shirt.

"Well you can always change your mind. You wouldn't be the first girl to decide that this place is a bit too … _hot and heavy _for them." Kitty stopped and looked into Ororo's piercingly blue eyes.

"It's not that. I mean, I've like always been a dancer ever since I can like remember. I don't like see it as wrong… I just don't think I can dance as … _meaningfully_ as that." Ororo's features softened perhaps she had misjudged this girl; she was definitely stronger than she appeared.

"From what I hear, you are a fantastic dancer. Mr Lensher is not in the habit of hiring just anyone. Usually, girls have to audition four or five times before they are hired. But apparently he offered you a job after your first audition. That makes you special Katherine, and more than worthy of this place." Kitty blushed and held out her right hand.

"Call me Kitty"

* * *

As they continued their journey, Kitty automatically headed toward the door at the end of the corridor. But Ororo steered her towards the second door on the right wall. 

"Oh, no honey. This way. We wouldn't want to disturb Emma. Mr Lensher's office is down here."

* * *

The next door revealed another identical corridor, with only one door at the very end, which Ororo opened to reveal a rather cosy room with two large red sofas surrounding a maple coffee table. In the corner sat a matching maple desk - holding a phone, a small pile of papers and several gossip magazines. Behind the desk was an ornate double door bearing a gold plaque that read;_ Eric M Lensher._ The desk was currently occupied by a small Asian girl with pretty feature, clad in a small yellow dress covered with a black suit jacket - she appeared to be around the same age as Kitty, or at least that is what the small pink bubble-gum bubble protruding from her mouth would seem to suggest. 

Ororo motioned for Kitty to take a seat on one of the sofas before approaching the desk.

"Katherine Pryde to see Mr Lensher."

The girl looked up and smiled politely at Ororo before shifting her head to look at Kitty. She then got up and embraced Ororo - over the desk.

"Mrs Monroe, long time no see! You hardly ever visit me anymore."

"Sorry Jubilee, but someone has to keep an eye on Logan. If I left him running the place for too long, he would probably end up on charges for GBH!"

The girl - Jubilee - giggled lightly before throwing the door, behind her, an awkward look.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait for a bit. Raven has been in there for a while." Ororo looked disgusted.

"Oh, Goodness! Their not…?" Jubilee's eyes flashed as she began to laugh.

"Oh, God no! She's asking for a raise, … again! They'll start telling at each other again in a minute." Jubilee smirked as she sat back down behind her desk.

"Heard anything from Evan lately?"

"Hmmm. Apparently he is dropping out of college. My sister says that she is at her wits end."

"Well, give me a buzz when he's in town again. It'll be good to see a couple of old faces from school. We should catch up sometime as well…"

"That would be nice, I haven't been out in a while. Are you free tonight?"

Jubilee threw a glance at the door, behind her, and replying; "Sorry, I think I'll be working late tonight. Maybe we could get lunch tomorrow?"

Ororo threw a brief yet disapproving look at the office door. "Well, I am going to see Charles in the morning so perhaps we could make it a late lunch? Say, three?"

"Sounds good to me, I have to go to one of Dad's FBI fund raiser thingies anyway. Oh… and how is Charles?"

The mood in the room darkened several shades as the question passed her lips. The half forbidden subject.

"Better, he… well he won't leave the house. I don't know, since we heard that he will have to stay in the chair… well I suppose some would call him a recluse. He just will not snap out of it…"

"So he can't ever walk again… I'm sorry Ro', we all know how close you were… are."

"Were."

That being said, Ororo turned and joined Kitty on the sofa; giving her a shaky smile. Luckily the awkwardness of the situation was dispersed as the office door came flying open revealing a very hassled looking redhead who, it would appear, was around the same age as Ororo.

"Bastard! Complete and utter bastard!"

"Everything alright Raven?" Jubilee enquired with as much false innocence as she could must - before slipping into the office.

"Snidey cow! Just because her father's commissioner of the FBI and one of the biggest wankers on earth. Bloody runt…"

"Raven, your ranting." Ororo stated with a vaguely amused smile playing with the corners of he mouth.

"Well, thank-you, almighty queen Ororo of stating the bloody obvious, for that very illuminating statement!"

"Calm down please, Raven, it is not my fault that you and Eric have had a lovers tiff."

"Lovers tiff! I tell you it's like talking to a brick wall! If I haven't got my legs open he isn't interested! I could ask until I'm blue in the face (A/N: I apologise, I just couldn't resist a mystique is blue joke!) and all I'd get is a bloody goldfish impression! Well, I'm through! He can take his fucking money and shove it up his arse! Lets see how he feels when he doesn't have a barmaid and Logan's whining because the customers are getting antsy! He'll be begging me to come back!" And with the call of "Worthless piece of shit!" over her shoulder, Raven Darkholme exited the room the only way she knew how; dramatically.

Kitty was shocked, completely and utterly flabbergasted.

"Don't worry, she doesn't mean it... Logan won't be moaning about her leaving. In fact, I believe he may even throw a party…" It was the complete and utter seriousness portrayed on Ororo's face that prompted Kitty into a fit of giggles which was completely unbecoming of her currently nervous state.

"Mr Lensher will see you now." Kitty's mood sobered considerably as Jubilee appeared in the doorway of the office.

* * *

Eric Lensher was a man with a great appreciation for the finer things in life. It is for this reason that he chose to adorn his office with many pieces of great artwork and priceless antiques. In the centre of the room stood a rather bulky Mahogany desk which held; three stacks of papers, five metal pens in a perfectly neat row, a matching paperweight and letter opener set and of course the obligatory photo frame - engraved with roses. The picture, was that of a magnificent woman, with long flowing raven coloured hair and a baby under each arm - one in blue and the other in pink. Behind the desk sat a large, red leather throne, that dominated the room - asserting the authority of it's possessor. 

"My dear Ororo! It has been so long. You have not visited us, up hear, nearly enough of late." Eric greeted his guests at the door and took both of Ororo's hands into his, cradling them in welcome.

"I rarely find myself with a reason to visit, Eric. Especially as I receive my orders from Poitr and Victor, rather than yourself." Ororo inclined her eyebrow slightly as she studied her employer.

"Ah, yes, I suppose I should make more of an effort." He then turned to Kitty and clasped both of his hands around her right one; as a gesture of welcome. "Ah, Katherine Pryde. It is indeed an honour. Please, sit - this should not take very long. Formalities are such a bore." He gesture the women into the two, small armchairs that were positioned in front of his desk - before returning to his throne and studying the pair.

"I trust you are well my dear. I was so dreadfully sorry to hear about Charles. No man should be condemned to a wheelchair for the rest of his days. You will pass on my regards during your next visit - I hope?" He addressed Ororo, mirroring her expression from earlier; eyebrow slightly inclined as he studied her feature for a reaction.

All Ororo could do was nod. It was the forbidden subject again. She knew he was testing her, punishing her for her previous hint, about preferring her employer to talk to her rather than sending a third party to do his dirty work. Eric had always preferred to assert his dominance as subtly as possible. He enjoyed quiet victories, it made him appear all the more menacing. Psychological warfare was indeed his weapon of choice.

"Now, Katherine…" He turned his attention to the younger of the two women, who remained blissfully unaware of the power struggle she had just witnessed "I do apologise for the inconvenience. There are just a few thins I would like to discuss before I introduce you to the rest of the girls; money, working hours and the like." He threw her a comforting smile before retrieving a piece of paper from the first pile in front of him. He then selected one of the five pens and placed it o the paper; pushing them both towards Kitty.

"Now, the club opens at six o'clock, but dancing hours - for my main girls - run from eight until twelve. You will have Sunday nights off. Your salary is paid in the form of your accommodation and the food and minor toiletries that are provided. Any extras you require will have to be purchased with the tips you receive. Now, if you have any problems you may contact me on any of the numbers that the girls keep taped to the fridge. Of course, I am always here during the clubs opening hours. You will usually find me in my office or mingling with customers. However I do prefer to let the girls run themselves, so if you do need anything, I would suggest that you look to either Rogue or Emma for assistance. After all, if you are unable to work for any reason, they will be the ones covering your shift; not me.

"So, do you have any questions, my dear?"

Kitty took a few seconds to let the information sink in; every night from eight till twelve, accommodation and basic necessities would be taken care of, Sundays off and a variety of help is available. He seemed to have covered everything.

"Is that woman like going to be alright? I mean, has she like lost her job because she asked for a raise? I don't like mean to pry its just…"

"Ah, You heard Raven's little rant? I must apologise for that, she has always had a flare for the dramatic. But do not worry too much; she threatens to leave every couple of months or so. I suppose I shall send her some flowers tomorrow and she will return as though nothing happened - she usually does... I do not wish for you to think me an unfair employer Katherine. If Raven truly needed the money, I would not hesitate to give it to her. But unfortunately, she has developed the habit of spending her wages on… _frivolities... _I admire your caring nature, I believe many of my girls will benefit from your influence." Eric smiled reassuringly at the young girl. Yes, she would fit in very well indeed.

"I couldn't help but notice the woman… _dancing_ when I like came in… she was like so good and well…" Kitty looked at her hands, trying to find the correct way to word her reservations.

"You doubt whether you are of the same standard as her?" Eric threw her a rather patronising smile before turning his attention to the older woman "Who was on the stage when Katherine arrived?"

"It was the Rogue, Sir." Ororo replied in a somewhat forced helpful tone. It was just like Eric not to have a clue of the line-up for tonight.

"Ah, well, I assure you that you have nothing to worry about my dear. I only hire the best. It is unfortunate that you were confronted with Rogue on your first day - but alas unavoidable. You see, Rogue is rather… _special_. She is the best of my Wild Roses and draws a great deal of business. But do not fret, I currently employ five live-in dancers and all of them - with the exception of Rogue - cannot hold a candle to your ability, my dear…"

Eric was interrupted by the shrill of his office phone; "Ah, yes Jubilee. Thank-you for informing me. See that our guest is comfortable, I shall only be a minute." With that, he ended the call and turned his attention back to the women in front of him.

"If there are no further question…" Kitty shook her head "Then you must excuse me, I appear to be in great demand tonight." With that, Mr Lensher gesture towards the contract he had given to Kitty earlier "If you would kindly sign at the bottom and then Ororo will show you to the living quarters." He turned to Ororo as he got up and walked towards the office door "If you would kindly ask Rogue to take care of young Katherine and then ask Logan to bring a bottle of scotch and two glasses to the office." Ororo inclined her head in understanding before exiting the office. Kitty place the contract and the pen on the desk and stood to follow her. As she passed Mr Lensher he clasped he hand in his.

"Welcome to The Rose Garden Miss Pryde."

* * *

A/N: So, there you have it! Third to follow shortly as I had to split the chapter. 


	3. Where The Wild Roses Grow, part 2

A/N: So, here is the second part! Hope you like. I am sooooooo sorry it took so long! I've had exams. So this chapter is extra long to make up for it! I hope you like!

Disclaimer: insert some form of mildly amusing rant, making it perfectly clear that I do not - under any circumstance - own these character, here

* * *

_**Where The Wild Roses Grow**_

As they made their way back through the corridors, Kitty's - now - relaxed mind was able to take in her surroundings. It was now that she noticed that four of the seven doors in the first hallway had plaques mounted to the front of them and key card locks - like the rooms in hotels. Three of the doors along the left wall - with the exception of the door that led out into the club - held these characteristics, as did the door at the end of the corridor. The first plaque was inscribed with the phrase; _The Bronze Suite_ and was indeed made out of a bronze-type metal. The next bore the words; _The Silver Suite_ and the plaque also held a resemblance to it's namesake. The last door on the left wall was dubbed; _The Gold Suite_, it's plaque resembling a block of gold mounted to the door. But it was the last door - the one right at the end of the corridor - that capture Kitty's attention the most. The door itself was engraved with thousands of roses, each climbing up the door and entwining with each other. The plaque was a dazzling white-silver that gleamed in the light of the hallway. The room beyond this door was; _The Platinum Suite_ and judging by the appearance of the door, it was the most luxurious of all of the rooms.

Ororo led Kitty towards the second door on the left hand wall. What lay behind the door, however, startled Kitty. The door opened to reveal a plain, slightly shabby corridor. It was far thinner than both of the previous hallways and held only one actual door - in the middle of the right-hand wall. On the left wall were two evenly spaced archways; the first revealing a tired but undoubtedly clean kitchen and the second opened into a sort of makeshift rec-room - it contained a small pool table, a worn out three person sofa, a large matching armchair, a TV with VCR and DVD player and a shelf housing an assortment of books, videos and DVDs. At the end of the corridor was a set of stairs that lead up into the darkness beyond. The door on the right wall was covered in white flaking paint and held many _"Keep Out"_, _"Do Not Disturb"_ and even a _"If You Don't Work Here, Bugger Off Pervert!"_ signs.

"The dressing room." Ororo said as way of explanation. She took Kitty to the door and favoured her with a kind smile, before knocking.

"You might want to prepare yourself. When they are working they appear very sophisticated and cool. But going into this dressing room is sometimes like walking into the girls bathroom on prom night." She motioned towards the last sign on the door "It's also advisable to knock before entering if you do not live here. They won't answer, of course. But it does mean that they are less likely to throw things at you." With that Ororo turned the handle and opened the door.

* * *

The room was magnificent; an explosion of light and colour. Directly in front of the door - along the opposite wall - were four mirrors, framed with lights (A/N: how cliché! LMAO) A long table stretched below the mirrors, set with four chairs, and covered with make-up and beauty products; forming the dressing table. There was an archway in the wall - just after the end of the table - beyond which, Kitty, could just make out the tiled walls and white curtains of the type of shower facilities provided at a youth hostel. The rest of the wall - beyond the arch - was covered by lockers, in front of which stood a long bench. To the right of the door was a large walk-in wardrobe that resembled a cave. Every available space on the walls was home to costume masks and hooks that held feather boas, sheets of silk, china and metal bras and brightly coloured hats and headdresses. The effect was very bohemian and enticingly dazzling. 

The room currently held four inhabitants. The first being a tall blonde woman - a couple of years older than Kitty - wearing what appeared to be a short silver night-dress covered with a long white dressing gown, made out of a kind of see-through mesh and sporting white fluff around the sleeves, bottom and collar. She had a rather full cleavage and fairly rounded hips. But she was thin, quite scarily thin, almost. Her hair was up in a complicated knot and caked in hairspray, however, large chunks of had broken free and were curling around her face. Her make-up was heavy but worn; as though it had been applied a few hours ago. Her feet were wrapped in silver, jewelled, strappy stilettos - with a five inch heel. She was sitting on the right hand side of the dressing table, with her back against the wall and her feet supported by one of the four chairs. She had her left arm folded across her body, while the right sported a lit cigarette in a long white holder.

In front of the second mirror from the left sat a slender red-head, applying blusher to her pale cheeks. Her blue eyes were outlined in a thin layer of black coal and her full lips were caked in red gloss. Her tousled red locks lay in half defined curls around her face, reaching down to caress her bare shoulders. Her willowy figure was clad in only soft white towel; the type found in hotels that only just reaches the middle of your thighs. She was tall with bare feet - her toenails coated in a gleaming red that matched the polish on her fingernails. She was definitely older than Kitty but younger than the blonde.

To Kitty's right there were two more girls. The first clad in only a simple black B-cup padded-bra and black flared jogging trousers - with the top rolled down, so that they hung from the tip of her hips. Her stomach was well toned and sported a crystal blue belly-button ring. Her bleach-blond hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, exposing the sharp - make-up free - features of her face. She was sitting on the wide bench, legs swinging, picking electric-blue polish off of her fingernails and talking to a petite, tanned girl; who was bending forward and towel-drying her thick, wavy, raven locks.

This second girl was wearing a grey baggy t-shirt - that bore the phrase _"Wild ain't an Adjective, it's a State of Mind" - _over a pair of stripy, purple shorts-knickers. Her feet were covered by teddy-bear slippers that looked well worn. Both of the girls were around Kitty's age and it was clear that they were avidly gossiping about someone or something. When the second girl lifted her head up to expose soft, dark features and the biggest brown eyes Kitty had ever seen, she spotted the new comers and waved towards Ororo - drawing the others' attention to their visitors.

The girl with the ponytail immediately stood up and lifted both hands into the air in mock surrender; announcing "Whatever it is, I didn't do it! I swear!"

Ororo graced her with a light laugh before replying "Relax, Tabby. I'm simply hear to introduce you to your new housemate." She stepped aside, so that they could all see Kitty more clearly. "This is Katherine Pryde."

"Oh, like, call me Kitty." Kitty nervously smiled before blushing and looking around for a hole to crawl into.

The bleach-blonde with the ponytail was the first to step forward and shake kitty's hand. "Hi, I'm Tabitha Smith. But call me Tabby!" She said brightly.

Next her dark-haired friend approached with a warm smile "Nice to meet you. I'm Amara Juliana Olivia Aquilla. You can call me what you like, but I suggest you stick to Amara because my full name sounds idiotic." She giggled lightly and allowed Tabby to throw an arm around her.

Ororo then took charge of the introductions and motioned towards the red-head, who was currently curling her hair.

"This is Jean Grey." Jean turned in her chair and briefly waved over her shoulder before returning to her task.

Ororo then motioned toward the smoking blonde in the corner. "This is Emma Frost, I would not advise calling her anything other than Emma…" However Ororo was cut off by the blonde herself.

"What the hell, Ro'? A new live-in? Why weren't we told?" The sternness in her voice chilled Kitty, who looked towards Ororo to gage her reaction.

"I was only informed of her arrival when I came in this evening, Emma. So don't take this out on me!" Ororo looked weary as she folded her arms across her chest and squared up to Emma - who now had he legs crossed and was leaning forward.

"I can take it however I want to! It's alright for you, out there lording it over the place. I don't suppose you think that we're important enough to know about things like this!"

"I'm not discussing your inferiority complex now Emma. I'm just here to hand Kitty over to Rogue so that she can give her the induction speech and help her settle in."

"Well you'll be waiting a long time 'cos she ain't here!"

Ororo's eyebrows furrowed as she looked at Emma and then glanced around the room; as if to verify the fact.

"Where is she?"

"Where do you think?" Emma replied while taking out another smoke and lighting it.

"Mr Lensher called awhile ago. I guess she's … you know…_otherwise engaged_." Tabitha prompted for Ororo.

"But, he told me that she would take care of Kitty."

"Well, I guess he lied." Emma responded with an ironic smile as she slipped off the table and made her way towards the group.

"What would he possibly gain from lying? It must have been last minute…"

"Well, whatever! He does enjoy screwing with our lives." Her face contorted into a sadistic grin. "Rogue really won't like this. She cannot take care of another newbie."

"Well perhaps you could try and help her out. Honestly Emma, it's not my problem."

With that, Ororo turned to leave; briefly placing a hand of Kitty's shoulder before rounding the corner. Once she had gone, Emma lit yet another cigarette and sat back in her previously vacated position on the dressing table.

"Don't worry about her.." Amara said while placing an arm around Kitty.

"…She's just highly strung." Tabby finished, placing her arm around Kitty's other side and leading the three of them towards the bench. "Stick with us kiddo!"

* * *

While Tabby proceeded to tell Kitty all about her favourite films, TV programmes and why she once dyed her hair bright green; Amara finished drying her hair and slipped on a pair of jeans, Emma stared at the trio and chain smoked and Jean disappeared into the wardrobe. When she returned, she was wearing a pale blue corset top adorned with black beads, satin mini-shorts - of the same colour, fishnets, black stiletto boots and a small black hat; balanced on her curls, with a small piece of mesh dangling across her eyes (A/N: Oh, how very Moulin Rouge of her! Lol!) 

"How do I look girls?" She smiled and spun around receiving wolf-whistles from Tabby and Amara. She then looked towards Emma, with a more serious look on her face. "How's the crowd tonight?"

"Okay. Just steer clear of the table in he left corner; their a little touchy feely - if you get my drift." Emma replied, raising her right eyebrow.

As Jean turned and left the room, Emma took out another smoke.

"God, Emma! Ain't it bad enough out there with all the smoke machines? Why have you gotta smoke up this place?!" Tabby growled, throwing a glare over her shoulder.

In response, Emma lit the cigarette, stood up and made her way towards the trio - pulling one of the dressing table chairs along with her. She pulled it up in front of them and sat sideways, legs crossed and with her arms resting on the back - facing them.

"So, what's your story, Pryde?" she addressed Kitty and the turned towards Tabby - blowing smoke in her face - before once again giving her attention to the newbie. "You a failed singer, come to the city to get famous and found it was harder than it is in the movies. Thought you'd go all "Coyote Ugly" on us? Don't tell me… you followed the love of your life here only to be dumped three weeks later and now your too scared to tell your parents? Perhaps, you're a care kid - run away from an unsatisfactory family? Come on, don't leave us waiting. Share with us _Kitty-cat._" Emma pressed with a superior smile.

Why did Kitty get the feeling that this was some kind of test? "Actually, I'm, like, a dancer. At the moment I'm taking any, like, audition I can find. The only problem is; that I'd, like, have to take, like, four jobs to pay the rent of an apartment that's, like, the size of a shoebox. So, if I work here, I don't have to worry about money and I might, like, totally get noticed by talent scouters. And for, like, future reference; in "Coyote Ugly" she was totally a song writer, not a singer." Kitty replied in an overly sweet voice that made Emma frown. "So, why are you guys, like, here?"

"Emma and I are aspiring actresses. Pretty much like you really; working here to stay of the streets." Tabby answered looking at Emma who nodded her agreement to the somewhat abbreviated description of her situation.

"My parents disowned me. I'm working here till I have saved enough money to start a fresh. It's slow, but I'm getting there." Amara piped up as she studied her chipped orange nail varnish.

"And Jean's trying to pay her Grandpa through medical care... So there you go!" Emma shrugged her arms as she got up and grabbed a pale blue baby-T from one of the open lockers. "For Gods sake, Tabby! Put a shirt on will you. I have to look at your breasts enough as it is! Try to keep them covered up when your not working, it won't kill you!" She threw the top at Tabby before making her way back towards the dressing-table. She stubbed out the remaining half of her cigarette and grabbed a magazine from the table - settling back into her position against the wall to read it.

"Way, to go kiddo!" Tabby explained "In Emma language the practically means '_welcome to the family'_" she translated with a grin, as she pulled the shirt over her head.

* * *

Tabby and Amara were very welcoming and even Emma seemed a little less intimidating, now that she wasn't glaring at Kitty. In fact, Kitty felt so relaxed in their company that she barely noticed the hour slip by. At 12:15 a shrill bell rang through the cluttered dressing room, causing Kitty to jump in alarm as the offending sound penetrated her ears. However the others seemed unfazed by the odd occurrence; Emma simply closed her magazine and threw it in the direction of the table before standing and stretching her long limbs, before heading out of the door. Tabby and Amara followed suit; grapping kitty's arms and hauling her to her feet. 

"Come on girly, lets get this party started!" Tabby exclaimed whilst pulling her towards the door.

"The bell means that all of the punters are gone." Amara explained, giving a breathy laugh in response to Kitty's bemused expression "Which basically means that we get to spend the rest of the evening in the bar."

"Getting pissed!" Tabby added for good measure.

The club, once again, looked completely different. It was empty; chairs pulled away from tables that held empty glasses and bottles. Smoke still clung to the corners of the room, giving it a surreal edge. The coloured spot lights and strobe lights had been replaced by the main lights; in the centre of the ceiling. And it smelt. The unmistakable aroma of stale alcohol and smoke mixed with the sticky smell of sweat. Behind the bar - that was now drenched in a harsh light - stood a gruff looking man, who was wiping a glass. He was well built, but slightly on the short side; however this did nothing to diminish his stern appearance. He was definitely someone that Kitty did not want to piss off.

Emma sauntered directly towards the bar; sliding into one of high stools and gaining the attention of the tough-looking barman.

"Jesus Christ Emma! Put some bloody clothes on." Was his greeting. Emma promptly flashed him a certain finger; causing him to sigh and decide to change topic "So, what can I get you?"

"Vodka, straight." Emma responded as she delicately rested her chin in the palm of her hand - placing her elbow on the bar top.

"What's got you so tense? Usually you go for a couple of gin and tonics before hitting the hard stuff." He quirked his eyebrow, studying the blonde in front of him.

"Lets just say; I'm going to need it…" Emma tailed off, throwing a meaningful look over her shoulder - directing the barman's gaze towards the three girls who were currently perched on the edge of the stage.

"Whose the broad?" He asked; placing Emma's order in front of her.

"That would be Katherine Pryde, our new live-in…" Emma gave an ironic smile before downing the liquor.

"Shit… does Rogue know?" He wearily ran his hands through his hair and refilled Emma's glass.

"No, Lensher left it to us to break the news. Fucking coward!" He looked around the bar, obviously searching for someone "Rogue's out … working." Emma clarified.

"Of course she is… Christ, she's going to flip! Poor kid can't take another…" he tailed off as the three girls made their way towards the bar.

"Hey, Logie!" Tabby smiled as he glared at her "I'd like you to meet Kitty, the latest addition to our screwed up little family!" she stated brightly.

"Kitty, this is Logan. He runs the bar." Amara clarified; rolling her eyes at Tabby's poor introductory skills.

"And cook for you, fix things for you, drive you places and generally try to keep you lot out of trouble." Logan finished off listing all of the chores he did for the girls - before turning towards the timid looking 'new girl' and offering his hand "Hey darlin', what can I get ya?"

"Three Breezers Logie." Tabby supplied with a beaming smile.

"I swear to God, Tabby, ya call me that one more time and they won't be able to identify ya body!" Logan growled and turned to fetch their drinks.

"So, _Logan,_ what happened here?" Tabby asked as she looked around the club.

"This…" Logan indicated to their surroundings as he placed their drinks on the bar "…is what the club looks like when all the customers leave and I haven't had a chance to clear up yet; 'cos that good for nothin' barmaid has decided to quit… again!"

"Oooo, what did she ask for this time? More time off?" Amara joined the conversation as she cleared the glasses from the nearest table.

"No, I think it was a raise…" Kitty piped up, much to the astonishment of her companions. She promptly turned the most adorable shade of pink "You guys are like talking about the tall one, with the red bob - right?" She asked; suddenly unsure of herself. They all nodded "Well, I, like, saw her when I was, like, waiting for my meeting with Mr Lensher…"

"Bet she gave you a mouthful an' all. Raven's known for her less than lady like communicational skills. Anyway, she left me to run the place myself."

"Don't worry, she'll come crawling back on Monday, she always does." Emma added as she downed another glass.

"That's the problem; I don't give a damn if she leaves! Hell, I'll be the first to help her outta the door. But she leaves me in this mess…"

"Come on, lets go over here and leave Logie to rant at Emma" Tabby whispered in Kitty's ear, as she steered her towards a table near the stage. They were closely followed by Amara, who had gabbed their drinks. Tabby pulled out a chair and tuned it around, so that she was stradling the back. Amara placed their drinks on the table and sat cross-legged on the chair opposite Tabby. Leaving Kitty to perch on the chair in between.

"Raven's a bit of a cow really." Tabby stated, reaching for her drink "She used to be like us… till she got too old. Now she just wears slightly less revealing outfits and flirts with the customers. She started working as the 'barmaid' around about the same time she started shagging the boss." At this admission, Kitty began to choke on her drink "So every now and then, she feels that she deserves a bit more money for the …_services_ she provides - greedy bitch."

"Come on Tabs, be nice. You know she has a kid to look after…" Amara began but was hastily cut off by Tabby.

"Yeah, as if any of that money would actually go to poor little Kurt! She barely has anything to do with him! She just leaves him with Irene and goes out to get pissed!… Anyway, we're getting off topic..." Tabby focuses her attention back on Kitty; determined to tell her story "So; Mr Lensher tells her to get lost, she quits and leaves Logan to cover her job for the night."

"Only problem is; she thinks that Mr Lensher is in love with her. And that if she refuses to sleep with him until he gives her more money, he'll eventually get desperate enough and give in…" Amara joined in.

"But he don't love her and she aint the only one he's shagging…"

"Jubilee - his secretary - always has to 'work late' whenever he and Raven have a tiff…"

"So, when Raven is pissed at him, he just calls Jubilee into his office for a quick bunk-up. Then, if Raven aint back by the end of the night, Jubes gets taken back to his place for a night of hot passionate sex…"

"Then in the morning, Mr Lensher arranges for a bunch of flowers to be sent to Raven's house and she comes crawling back - thinking that she's won!"

Kitty was speechless. It suddenly all made sense; why Ororo had looked so disapprovingly at Jubilee and why her new boss seemed unfazed by an employee quitting so abruptly. Tabby downed the rest of her drink and looked thoughtful. Her brow furrowed as she looked towards the bar and addressed Logan.

"Hey! Where's Scott?"

"Drivin' the non-live-ins home… seein's as I had so much work to do…"

With that, the door of the club swung open to reveal one of the most handsome men Kitty had ever seen. He was easily half a foot taller than Logan with a glossy mop of chocolate locks. He wore smart brown shoes that shined in the light as he walked towards the group. As he went he pulled off his brown suede jacket to reveal a crisp white shirt that hung loosely over a pair of the neatest jeans ever known to man. Around his neck hung a plain beige tie; still knotted as tightly as it had been when he had tied it, yet now the knot hung slightly lower revealing the open top button of his shirt - no doubt the sign of a long night. But, despite the new arrivals bland appearance, Kitty could not help but note the oddity that adorned his face; over his eyes lay a pair of glasses - with blood red lenses.

Tabby and Amara jumped up and pulled Kitty towards the stranger, who was placing his jacket over the back of one of the bar stools. He exchanged a few brief words with Logan before pulling out a set of car keys and handing them to the man. Then he turned towards the three girls. It was Tabby that made the introductions on their behalf. Scott Summers, the musician and handy-man for the club, greeted Katherine Pryde, the newest of the wilds, with a warm smile.

"No Jean?" He enquired while casually glancing around the otherwise deserted club.

"She's changing." Was Emma's curt reply as she eyed him suspiciously before downing the rest of her drink. Scott nodded and made his way towards the piano, at the side of the stage. He lifted the lid and disappeared behind it.

* * *

They continued the rest of the night in the same manner to which it had started; Emma and Logan quietly conversing over the bar - while the blonde chain smoked and sought the bottom of many a glass, Tabby and Amara twittered on to Kitty about trivial likes and dislikes - in an attempt to get to know their new co-worker - and Scott continued to tune his piano until Jean reappeared - dressed in a baby-blue valour tracksuit and her hair, wet from the shower, pulled into a high ponytail - and they both sat, with their feet dangling from the edge of the stage, engrossed in light-hearted discussion. 

At 2:39 the peacefully relaxed atmosphere was sliced by the shrill ringing of the phone that sat behind the bar. Everyone in the room stopped; Scott and Jean gracefully lowered themselves off of the stage, Tabby and Amara tailed off mid sentence and turned their attention towards Logan who exchanged a quick look with Emma before answering the call.

"Yeah," Was his initially gruff greeting "oh, right… How far?… Right… Is everything alright?… Good… Thanks for telling' us… yeah" he hung up the phone before tentatively turning towards the girls and throwing Emma a pointed look "They'll be here in 5."

The reaction to his words was instantaneous; Emma downed the remainder of her drink and stubbed out her half finished smoke, Jean and Scott swiftly drifted towards the bar and Tabby and Amara followed bringing their bottles with them.

"Jean, start running a bath. Tabs, Amara - help Scott and Logan clear this place up…" Emma ordered as she stood from her stool and turned her attention to Kitty "Come here kid and take a seat, you've got a good impression to make."

Kitty sat in the centre of whirling bodies; all rushing to set tables straight, collect empty bottles and wipe down surfaces. She was confused and a little frightened by the sudden hush that had fallen since the call had been made. She was reminded very much of the silence offered by her parents before they scolded her for doing something wrong - the calm before the storm, she called it, and it put her on edge. Jean gave her a brief smile before retreating back towards their living quarters; but the others were too consumed by their assigned tasks to even look at her.

Five minutes later the door, to the club, opened revealing a giant of a man; dressed in a sharp black suit complete with white shirt and a thin black tie. The man was huge. His muscles bulged and rippled beneath their coverings. The doorway almost framing him, emphasising his abnormal height - no doubt almost reaching 7 foot tall - and sheer brute strength. The towering terror stepped forwards so that his features were immersed in the light of the club. He looked concerned; although his lips were set in a trained line of indifference, his eyes betrayed him. They held the look people usually reserve for lost children. Suddenly the giant appeared less threatening as he turned to usher his companion through the door.

It was her. The goddess from the stage. The dancer that moved so completely it was as if she, herself, was the music. As she stepped over the threshold, everyone stilled. She glided forward, hips swaying as her heeled feet clacked against the wooden floor of the club. She was wrapped in a long brown trench coat that she pulled tighter around herself by folding her arms across her chest. Those perfect curls that had previously flowed so gracefully over her shoulders, now held a little less volume. Her formally flawless mask of make-up now sported small smudges - hardly noticeable except in this harsh light. Her head was held high and her shoulders were pushed back; but her eyes were down.

"Hey, stripes. Wanna drink kid?" Logan stepped forward with a glass already in hand. The beauty lifted her eyes towards him and an accepting smile graced her features.

As she unfolded her arms, the coat opened slightly revealing a brief glimpse of vast expanses of creamy flesh clad in emerald silk that was trimmed with black lace. Logan averted his eyes from the sight of her lingerie adorned body, looking vaguely uncomfortable with the situation. The goddess allowed an ironic smile to overtake her features as she shook her head at his discomfort. She accepted the drink and pulled the coat back around her as she looked towards Emma and raised her glass.

"Good Naght (night)?" The beauty drawled. Her Southern accent so thick that it smothered her words.

"The usual…" Emma replied "Who was it?"

"Peterson." Emma pulled a disgusted face at Rogue's answer.

"Christ!" Rogue just shrugged at Emma's response, averting her eyes briefly to the floor. "Jean's running you a bath."

"Thahnks (thanks) sugar. Mah (my) backs killin' meh (me), if ya know whaht (what) ah (I) mean…" She tailed off throwing a small smirk in Logan's direction and watched as his face flushed and he slammed the glass, he was cleaning, onto the bar.

"You might not want to tease him too much tonight. Raven's done another runner. We don't want to give him an aneurism." Emma smirked as she watched her friend torment the poor man in front of her. But even Logan's minor outburst could not mask the tension in the room - and Emma knew that it was her responsibility to break it "Rogue…" She started feebly before loosing her nerve. Throwing a slight glance towards the three girls standing behind her; a movement that did not go unnoticed by the Southern belle in front of her.

"Somethang's (something's) wrong Sugar. Ya'll look shifty." She looked around the rest of the group, her eyes drifting towards the young stranger perched on the bar stool usually occupied by Emma.

Emma's eyes followed her trail; resting on Kitty, who looked extremely uncomfortable. _No time like the present_ she thought as she turned her attention back to the Southerner and gestured towards the stranger.

"This is Katherine Pryde…" She started but tailed off; uncertain of how to continue.

"Nahce (nice) to meet ya, sugar. Ah'm Rogue." Rogue stated, with nothing more that a glance towards Kitty; her attention still trained on Emma.

"…She's a new live-in…" Emma stated as she began to search Rogue's eyes for a reaction. Piercing blue sapphires met flashing emerald orbs.

"Rose or Angel?" To an outsider the question may have sounded like nonsense. But it was clear that it carried a deep meaning.

"Rose." Emma's too quick reply caused Rogue to raise her eyebrows "Honestly, I swear. She's just a dancer."

Rogue continued to focus on Emma's eyes, her attention never wavering; yet she addressed Kitty.

"We weren't expectin' ya, so we don't have a room ready for ya. Ya'll bunk with Amara tonaght (tonight) and tha girls will set one up tomorrow."

Kitty wasn't entirely sure what was going on. It was obvious that she had not been expected and that perhaps her arrival had occurred at an inconvenient time. But why would Rogue not look at her?

At that moment, Jean reappeared from behind the door beside the stage "I ran you a bath, Rogue." Jean smiled sweetly, attempting to break the tension. It had worked. In that instance the spell that had captured Emma and Rogue was broken. They looked away from each other; Emma stepping back away from Rogue, closer to the rest of the group and Rogue placed her forgotten drink down on the bar, before turning her intense gaze to the rest of the room.

"It seems thaht (that) we will need ta reorganize Fridahys (Fridays) show. I wahnt (want) y'all ready by tehn (ten) for practice." She stated with undeniable authority lacing her tone "If ya've got plans, change 'em!"

With that she turned and made her way over to the door by the stage. Her dainty feet strapped into unnaturally high heels that caused her hips to sway elegantly as she walked. Every ounce of the woman was smooth and graceful, almost feline in a way. But to those who knew her well enough; it was hard to miss the tension that gripped her shoulders. Whether it was from anger, tiredness, hatred or pure exhaustion - it was impossible to tell. The only thing that was certain is that Rogue had refused to make eye contact with her new co-worker. A sign that put everyone on edge.

As the door swung closed behind the Rogue, Emma grabbed Scott's jacket and thrust it towards him "You heard the girl! Looks like the Roses have got an early start tomorrow, so I suggest we get some rest." On her instruction, everyoneone went their separate ways with nothing more than a couple of good night's; Scott headed towards the door - turning to throw one last wave at Jean who returned it wearily before going back through the stage door, Tabby and Amara - once again - grabbed Kitty's arms and steered her back towards the door beside the stage and leaving Emma and Logan alone in the deserted bar.

"She can't do this much longer, Emma…" Logan put his hand on her shoulder as she made to follow the others "…She's loosing it! If she ain't careful she's gunna end up running herself into the ground!"

"If she ain't careful, someone just might do it for her…"


	4. Unforgivable Sinner

A/N: Here it is, another chappy!!! Hope you like! Here's your first really Rogue chapter! Prob a lil confusing. Next chapter involves a major event, but it won't really be addressed until the chapter after that!

Disclaimer: (insert sarcastic laugh!)

* * *

_**The Unforgivable Sinner**_

"_Unforgivable Sinner" Lene Marlin_

It was that feeling again. That prickly unpleasant feeling that creeps up your spine. The type that makes you shudder and brings with it that sickly feverish tension that grips your body. It over took her body as she sat at the end of the bed, a sheet encasing her body. A hand still lay on the inside of her right thigh - bound there by the sheet. It had slithered and snaked it's way there just before it's owner had passed out, causing her to silently thank whichever higher power was responsible for 'traditional men'; men who fell asleep straight after sex, men who had one round and were out cold for the rest of the night. It was these men that kept her sane and gave her back her dignity - so unlike the 'modern man'. 'Modern men' were self obsessed, arrogant and never satisfied; if they had you for the night, they made sure they got the most out of it. But the worst thing about 'modern men' was the way they watched her - as she disentangled herself from the sheets, as she searched for her clothes, as she bent over to pick them up, as she slid them on over her hips and down her chest - their eyes never leaving her and that smug smirk on their face. The feeling coursed through her body again, bringing bile to her throat and a thin covering of imaginary sweat to her body.

She pulled away, dropping the intrusive hand onto the bed and began the degrading search for her clothes. Still the man did not stir, for which she was grateful. When her body was once again adorned with her poor excuse for an outfit, she turned to inspect her reflection. She wished she could say that she could not recognise the woman that stared back at her; but, in reality, they knew each other too well. She turned away - pulling her brown trench coat over her barely decent lingerie - as she made her way out onto the street, pulling out her phone. _'One New Message':_

**Monroe told me you were working, call when you need to get home**

**Piotr**

Piotr knew that Creed was on chauffeur duty tonight, as did she. And they were both all too aware that she would rather be locked in a room with Jack The Ripper, than climb into a car - alone - with Victor Creed. So the message had not come as a surprise, but it was definitely appreciated. She hadn't even needed to say anything when he answered her call.

"I'm on my way." A man of few words; exactly why she liked him. The few times she had, had to call Logan - when Piotr was visiting family in Russia - had been nearly unbearable. With his constant questioning; "Are you okay?", "How you holdin' up kid?" and, of course "If you wanna talk 'bout it, I'm always here, darlin'" It had been almost enough incentive to cause her to consider calling Creed … almost.

True to his word, Piotr Rasputin had arrived five minutes later; leaving her enough time to take a couple of swigs of a certain burning liquid before he got there. He pulled up - with nothing more than a polite greeting - and she gracefully lowered herself into the backseat; she needed to be alone and he understood. As they drove towards her 'home', she began to distance herself; travelling back to different times and places - anything but there. Dissociation; a concept she was all too familiar with and well practiced at. Piotr left her in silence, only breaking the stillness to make 'the call'.

"It's me…We're on our way…Five minutes…She's had a drink…I think so…She's zoned out again…see you soon…"

The only way you would ever know that Piotr gave a damn; whenever he picked her up, he would call ahead to make sure that the others were ready for her return. She didn't mind this small gesture of concern, for her well being; if truth be told, she was looking forward to several glasses of something strong and a hot bath. He was a good man, in a bad place.

But that had not happened. She had arrived to find an innocent amongst the Wild Roses; a rose amongst thorns…

* * *

"_Kinda lose your sense of time  
'Cause the days don't matter no more…"_

That was five hours ago. Rogue was currently sat in their shabby kitchen, clutching a mug of coffee - strong coffee. She wasn't usually a morning person, she was the late to bed and lay-in kind of girl. But she couldn't sleep; hence the coffee. The girls often joked that you should not bother The Rogue unless she has had at least three cups of coffee - well she was currently consuming her fifth and God help anyone that confronted her today.

The cause of her current state of insomnia could be summed up with two words; Katherine Pryde. That sweet naive girl had no idea what trouble she was causing. If Rogue was honest with herself, it wasn't the girl that bothered her at all - if Pryde wanted to throw herself to the wolves, then it wasn't Rogue's problem. No, it was the problem that she posed; she needed a room. A room that still belonged to someone else, in Rogues mind at least…

"…_All the feelings that you hide  
Gonna tear you up inside…"_

**---FLASHBACK---**

_The sheet covering the metal slab in front of her was pulled back to reveal snowy-white locks, interspersed with rivers of vibrant green. Beside her, her tall purpled-haired companion's body shook with violent sobs. Rogue's own tears were held in her throat by an overwhelming barricade of guilt, that held her grief within her. Silently she nodded, signalling the identification of the body…_

**---END FLASHBACK---**

"…_You hope she knows you tried…"_

Katherine Pryde's presence represented the end of an era; an era that, in reality, ended two years ago. Rogue just hadn't accepted it yet.

* * *

She was pulled out of her memories by the appearance of a figure at the door. In front of her stood one of the most sickening images ever to grace her presence this early in the morning; Katherine Pryde was wearing a bubble-gum pink 'pineapple' tracksuit and one of the sweetest smiles known to man. It was criminal to look that happy this early in the morning - especially if that person had just woken up in the dorms of 'The Rose Garden'. 

"…_Follows you around all day  
And you wake up soaking wet…"  
_

"Like, hi!" Kitty beamed in Rogues direction. Ponytail swinging, while grabbing a glass of orange juice off the counter.

Rogue simply waved her hand in the girls direction, by way of greeting, and downed the rest of her coffee.

"So, do you guys, like, have any cereal or anything?" Kitty enquired, obviously a little offended by Rogue's dismissal.

"Cupboard behind ya." Rogue stated as she poured herself yet another mug of coffee. Once she had taken a sip of the dark liquid, she turned to Kitty with hard eyes "Ah did tell y'all ta be up by tehn (ten) raght (right)?"

"Ummm…yeah…" Kitty tailed off unsure of what was going on. Suddenly she caught on as she saw the look on Rogues face "Oh, I'm like so totally sorry! Am I, like, disturbing you?"

"Not reahlly (really). It's just thaht (that) tha gals don't normahlly (normally) get up until tehn minutes befoah (before) their supposed ta."

"Well I'm, like, so totally a morning person!" Kitty beamed.

Rogue allowed her expression to portray her dislike of the proclamation "Ah'll give ya a week."

"I, like, don't understand." Kitty had once again lost track of the conversation and Rogue's glare was beginning to unnerve her.

"Ah give ya a week of workin' here befoah (before) ya beggin foah (for) a lay in, sugah (sugar)."

"Umm Rogue…do you not like me, or something?" Kitty stuttered; not completely sure of herself and struggling to find her usually present confidence "…Because you're, like totally being rude…"

"Ain't nuthin' personal sugah (sugar)." Rogue favoured her with a weary smile "Ah just don't think ya gunna last five minutes here." At Kitty's astounded expression, Rogue took pity on her "Ah'm only tryin' ta look out foah (for) ya ."

"Well, like, no offence but I'm quite happy here. Your, like, the one with the problem - not me…"

"Look sugah (sugar) Ah've seen plenty of gals destroyed workin' in thihs (this) place and ah ain't entirely sure ah cahn (can) handle another on mah (my) conscience." Kitty just frowned at her; causing Rogue to shake her head at the naïve young woman "Ah've gotta make a phone call…Tod's gotta measure ya foah (for) ya outfits…"

_'"…Cause between this world and eternity  
There is a face you hope to see…"_

With that she left Kitty alone, in the tiny kitchen, completely confused. She could not understand why Rogue was behaving this way. It must be admitted that Rogue was not being mean, nasty or necessarily unwelcoming; but then again, she wasn't exactly being very hospitable. For such a radiant woman, Rogue permanently carried a hard half-glare upon her china face - something which Kitty had never had to deal with before. People always liked Kitty, they gravitated towards her. Of course, there were always people - like Emma - who would try to intimidate her; but once they got to know her, these people generally softened. But not the Rogue.

* * *

By 10:10, the rest girls had surfaced and Kitty was subjected to her first morning in the unconventional household. Emma had arrived first clad in a silver silk camisole and mini-shorts set, that was covered with a matching - yet almost indecently short - kimono dressing-gown. Her only reaction to Kitty's greeting was a swift 'V' sign, before reaching for the coffee. She was then joined by Tabby - dressed in cropped denims and a pale blue shirt left unbuttoned over a black cropped vest-top, that effectively displayed her jewelled stomach - who completely ignored Kitty; slumping into a chair and laying her head on the table. Amara and Jean arrived together. Amara - wearing a deep purple, V-necked jumper and a denim mini-skirt - gave Kitty a small smile before perching herself on the counter with a glass of milk. Jean, however, appeared to be the most coherent - even managing a couple of "Good Mornings" for the rooms inhabitants. She wore beige khaki trousers and a jade-green, capped sleeved t-shirt - that held a black rose emblem. No, these girls were definitely not morning people. 

When Rogue reappeared - somehow managing to look almost unearthly stunning, considering her towering temper, in tight jeans and a from fitting, off the shoulder, black jumper - she did not appear too impressed at the state of her co-workers.

"Ah, want everyone on stage in fahve (five) minutes. Jean, ah'm givin' Kitty yoah (your) place in tha routine, if thahts (that's) alright with ya?" Jean nodded her approval, knowing that they did not have the time to come up with a whole new routine - that incorporated all six of them - before Friday night's show "Ah'll need ya here ta teach Kitty tha basics, but thehn (then) ya'll can go see ya grandpa." Rogue then turned to leave, pausing at the sight of Emma "Get some propa (proper) clothes on Emma…"

"Fuck off!" Emma half-heartedly threw at the retreating woman, before accepting defeat and returning to her room to change. Once she was clad in a white halter neck top, covered by a grey cropped cardigan, and tight grey trousers; she joined the others on the stage - for Kitty's first rehearsal.

* * *

Rogue was impressed. It was noon and they were done; Emma had retreated to her room - in order to sleep off her hang-over - Tabby and Amara had gone shopping and Jean was at her grandfather's nursing home. Kitty had picked up the steps with extraordinary quickness - she was indeed a very accomplished dancer. After learning the steps it took the young girl only another hour to completely refine the dance; making it appear as though she had been a part of the team for years. Now Rogue and Kitty were, once again, left alone together - waiting for the tailor to arrive, ready to measure Kitty for her costumes. 

"You, like, don't have to wait with me. You can so totally go and rest like Emma if you like… I honestly don't mind…" Kitty tailed off at the look on Rogue's face.

"Ah don't think so sugah (sugar)" Rogue gave her a knowing smile "Todd Tolansky, tends ta get a little… _friendly…"_ With that the door opened, revealing a slimy looking weed of a boy; clad in an over-large, grey suit with white shirt and a dirty green tie. His bulging eyes were emphasised by his greasy black hair, that had been slicked to his head.

"Well, ain't ya a cute one, baby cakes." He said whilst taking Kitty's hand - which he promptly dropped when Rogue cleared her throat "Ah, and if it ain't lil' Roguey! You look positively delicious…" His greedy eyes travelled the length of her body - resting a little too long on certain areas - before returning to her face again. The glare he found upon her picturesque face caused him to take several steps back before he dared to speak again "But, of course… business first…Now I must ask as to how you intend to pay me for this little impromptu visit? I wonder…"

"Ya'll get a cheque from Mistah (mister) Lensher, as usual." Rogue cut in, with a dangerous edge to her voice, before he could utter the words _'in kind'_ "Ya want special treatment Tolansky, ya pay foah (for) it like everyone else… Now lets get this over with."

* * *

By the end of the session Kitty had decided on three basic outfits and a few specialised ones - for shows and the like. Rogue had hovered by Kitty the entire time, like a mother protecting it's young. Which struck Kitty as odd because Rogue could only have been two years older than Kitty, at the most. Once Todd had left, Rogue disappeared into the kitchen returning with a selection of pre-made sandwiches - that they ate, together, around one of the tables in the club. 

"Ah, know ya're a virgin, ya know." Kitty choked on her lunch as Rogue set three quarters of hers aside and began to study the young thing in front of her "Ah ain't goin' ta give ya a hard time anymore. Ah gotta apologise for earlier, Eric has a habit of catchin' meh (me) unawares…which I oftern take out on tha wrong person."

"Um, that's , like totally, okay. But can we like go back to the part about me being a virgin…"

"How old are ya sugar?" Rogue enquired, searching her companions eyes.

"Nineteen." To say Kitty was confused would be an understatement.

"Honestly? Cos ah ain't goin' ta care if ya underage - ya wouldn't be tha first. I just need ta know incase tha inspectors come sniffin' 'round."

"I'm nineteen. I, like, swear on my life!" Rogue seemed to accept this answer. "Can I, like, ask you a question?"

"Sure sugar." Rogue gave her a brief yet encouraging smile.

"How comes, your, like, the boss. Isn't Emma older than you?"

"Emma might be older, but ah've been here longer. Emma only started working here 'bout three years ago." Rogue could see Kitty trying to work out the maths in her head "Ah turned twenty this year…ah've been here since ah was fifteen…" The look of horror that struck Kitty's face made it almost impossible for Rogue to look her in the eye. Yet at the same time, Rogue was overcome with the sadistic urge shock the naïve girl in front of her; pulling her face into a grim smirk as she looked at Kitty through her eyelashes "Ah told ya it didn't matter if ya were underage. Eric hires tha best and doesn't ask questions." Rogue got up to clear her plate, but was stopped by Kitty's next question,

"Why are you here?" It was whispered and devoid of her valley girl accent. Kitty may have been naïve, but she wasn't stupid; she knew she had stumbled upon a sore topic.

"Ah beg ya pardon?"

"Well Emma and Tabby are trying to become actresses, Amara has fallen out with her parents, Jean has to pay the nursing home bills for here granddad and I'm, like, trying to become a dancer…Why are you working here?" Kitty held her breath.

"Thaht ain't yoah business sugar…" Rogues hard look told Kitty not to pry any further "Lets take ya to ya room; ah had Tabs and Amara get it ready befoah (before) they left."

_"...You know where you've sent her  
You should know where you are  
You're trying to ease off  
But you know you won't get far  
And now she's up there  
Sings like an angel  
But you can't hear those words  
And now she's up there  
Sings like an angel  
Unforgivable Sinner…"  
_

Admitting defeat, Kitty stood and followed her companion through the door beside the stage, through the next door to their living quarters and up the stairs to the landing above. Although Kitty had visited this part of the club last night; she had been too tired to take any of it in. This corridor was long, narrow and dark - with only one central light bulb to light the way. Both walls - left and right - were a mirror image of each other, holding four doors each. The last door sat right at the end of the corridor, on the far wall. The floor was a dark wood that matched that of the doors and their frames.

"…_You've been walking around in tears  
No answers are there to get  
You won't ever be the same  
Someone cries and you're to blame…"_

When they reached the landing, Rogue turned to her left to retrieve the necessary key form a plaque on the wall. However she paused as her heart froze and pushed against her throat. There, hanging from the key - she had intended to reach for - swung a small, metal, four-leaf clover key ring. They had cleared the room, but they had not thought about the key itself; neither had she for that matter. But the damage was done. Trying to swallow the icicles that encircle her throat, Rogue enclosed her hand around the small object and walked towards the last door on the right hand wall - Kitty close at her heels. She was relieved to see that the plaque, at least, had been removed from the door.

"…_Struggling with a fight inside  
Sorrow you'll defeat  
The picture you see it won't disappear  
Not unpleasant dreams or her voice you hear…"  
_

Rogue's slight hesitation had not gone unnoticed by Kitty. But she felt as though she had pried too much already - especially as the infamous Rogue was finally behaving civil. As she followed her mysterious companion towards the end of the corridor, Kitty could not help but notice each door - accept the two at the very end - bore a plaque or sign of some sort. The first door on the left hand wall held a sign carrying large swirling purple letters that formed the name _'Amara'_; it's twin on the opposite wall bore a small wooden plaque that was engraved with _'Jean'._ The door next to Jean's was adorned with a simple silver sign the bore the name _'Emma Frost'_; the identical door opposite contrasting with it's simplicity as it was decorated with a number of different letters - from signs and cut out of magazines - that were arranged to spell _'Tabby; The One and Only Tabitha Smith!!!"_ The door next to this held a whiteboard that was scrawled with phrases such as _'Need more conditioner', 'Do not use the moisturiser on the bottom shelf', 'Whoever used my shampoo, owes me $3. Tabby x' _and _'Tabby, if you use up all the hot water again, I swear to god that it will be the last thing you do!"_; The door opposite this also bore a whiteboard with similar notes to various inhabitants. The last door to bare a name was the last one on the left wall. The phrase _'The Rogue'_ had been tattooed onto the door with black ink; it was written in a gothic style and all around it swirled simple black roses interspersed with green and silver gems. The pair came to a halt at the door opposite Rogue's. Although there was no name on the door, there was a slightly worn patch in the centre of the door that suggested that it had previously bore a declaration of ownership.

Rogue inserted the key - now devoid of the key ring, which was safely tucked away in her jeans pocket - into the door, which swung open to reveal a desolate place. A single bed with a wooden headboard sat in one corner, a small wardrobe of the same wood stood opposite and next to this lay an empty desk with a matching chair. Kitty recognised the layout and furniture from Amara's room - where she had slept last night - except Amara had decorated hers with purple suede curtains and cushions that were scattered across her cotton covered duvet, that looked as though it held almost twice as much life as Kitty's painfully flat looking one. In fact, Amara's room could not have been more different from this; Kitty recalled that it was cluttered with well organised knickknacks, pictures in silver frames and a small collection of teddy-bears - that looked like collectors items. There had also been a low level daybed/sofa that was pushed against the wall beside the door - which is where Kitty had slept - that was covered in a fluffy comforter and matching cushions. No, Kitty's room was nothing like Amara's at all; it was a mass of beige and cream. Stained curtains framed the small window, highlighted by the sparse decoration. At least the sheets looked clean.

"Ya can redecorate with accessories if ya like, ya just can't change tha major stuff." Rogue said from the door, without looking into the room "I'll leave ya ta get settled." She motioned towards Kitty's suitcases that had been sat on the bed "Ah'm goin' ta rest now; if ya need anything tha girls should be back shortly. Logan's comin' by at seven ta cook ya a welcome meal, so ah'll see ya then. Feel free ta hang out in tha rec room…"

With that Rogue turned and made to leave, but for some unexplainable reason, Kitty was reminded of something she had said last night; _"Rose or Angel"_ Perhaps it was the way Rogue was, once again, refusing to look at her. Whatever it was, she could not prevent the question from leaving her lips.

"…_You know where you've sent her  
You should know where you are  
You're trying to ease off  
But you know you won't get far  
And now she's up there  
Sings like an angel…"  
_

"What's the difference between, like, Roses and Angels?" The pure innocence portrayed by the question caused Rogue to pause and consider the younger woman.

"Ya're standin' in 'The Roses Garden', sugar." A small, ironic smile had twisted it's way onto the older woman's face "Those girls that dance on podiums out in tha club are just foah (for) decoration; an assortment of weeds, shrubs and lesser flowers used to frame the main attraction. The roses; that's us sugar. Or ta give us our full title 'The Wild Roses'" Kitty still looked confused "Ya've seen Moulin Rouge, right?" Kitty gave a curt nod "Well, tha cancan dancers are tha _'Diamond Dogs'_ - their like tha girls on the podiums in matching outfits, tha ones that get ta go home at the end of tha night. But we're like '_Satine'_ tha _'Sparkling Diamond'_; we eat, sleep, live and breathe this place. We are tha 'Wild Roses'."

"As foah tha 'Angels' sugah (sugar), they aint yoah (your) concern. Cos' ya ain't goin' ta be one of 'Eric's Angels'." Rogue spat out the last phrase with so much distaste that it reminded Kitty of the look she had favoured the tailor, Todd with. Once again Rogue's voice filled her head _"Ya want special treatment Tolansky, ya pay foah it like everyone else."_

"Rogue…?" Kitty wasn't entirely sure how best to word her suspicions "You, like, aren't only a dancer are you…?"

"No Kitty, ah ain't. And neitha are Emma, Tabby or Jean. We're what the punters call 'Eric's Angels'; ya know…providing' a lil' extra _service…"_

"Oh my God…" Kitty gasped as realisation dawned on her "You're, like, prostitutes!"

"But ya ain't and Amara ain't… And that's how its goin' ta stay!" Rogue's face showed more conviction and determination than anyone Kitty had ever seen before "Ah mean it Kit'! If Eric asks ya, ya tell me and ah'll sort him! This ain't no life foah a girl like ya…"

"I…like…um…sure…" Kitty was taken aback by Rogue's outburst. She didn't know what to do or say. Rogue was angry - fuming even - but it wasn't directed at Kitty "Rogue…?"

"…_But you can't hear those words  
And now she's up there  
Sings like an angel  
Unforgivable Sinner…"_

The tenderness in Kitty's voice and the pleading that, that one word held, caused Rogue to look up at her. Whether it was out of pity or some other emotion, she was not sure; all that Rogue knew was at that moment, she had to look at the girl. Then it happened, Rogue allowed herself to look up at Kitty - to look up into the room. It's bareness startled her and wrenched at her heart. Where were all of the wind-chimes - thousands of them hanging from the ceiling? Where were the bundles of clothing tossed onto the floor? Where were the picture frames displaying the three girls with the unusual hair - one purple on black, one green on snowy white and one platinum on auburn curls?…

"…_Maybe one time lost  
But now you're found  
Stand right up before  
You hit the ground…"_

The guilt crushed down upon her, strangling the life out of her. She tore her eyes away from the sight and held onto the wall for support. Kitty acted almost instinctively; pulled Rogue over to the bed and sat her down - all the while instructing breathing exercises, until the older woman complied.

"…_Maybe one time lost  
But now you're found  
Stand right up before  
You hit the ground - hit the ground…"  
_

"That's right, breathe slowly…like, in and out…"Rogue opened her eyes and looked shocked to find herself in the empty shell "Are you, like, alright?" Kitty asked tentatively - unsure how the dominating female would react. Much to her surprise, however, the Rogue let out a breathy laugh as she looked around the room.

"Ya've got some big shoes ta fill sugar." Rogue once again chuckled at Kitty's utterly perplexed look "Tha girl that lived here befoah ya…Lorna Danes…was one of tha nicest, kindest people ya'll ever meet…"

"Where did she, like go? Why did she leave?" To Kitty's horror; tears began to slowly creep down Rogues cheeks.

"…_You know where you've sent her  
You should know where you are  
You're trying to ease off  
But you know you won't get far…"  
_

"They…they found her in a...a ditch, on tha side of tha motorway…'bout a mile from here." Rogues eyes glassed over as she was once again transported back to that day - in the morgue - and she found herself repeating the words of the pathologist "Single bullet wound ta tha head, execution style"

"…_And now she's up there  
Sings like an angel  
But you can't hear those words  
And now she's up there  
Sings like an angel…"  
_

Kitty's gasp of horror swept over her like icy water; shocking her system and clawing her back to reality. Her horror only increased when she realised that she was crying. When was the last time she had cried? She couldn't even remember…

"…_Unforgivable sinner."_

"Ah'm goin' ta tell ya what they told me Kit'…ah didn't believe 'em till it was too late and ya won't either…" Kitty's eyes narrowed, feeling - not for the first time - out of her depth; drowning in the conversation "This place is cursed. Everyone that lives, works or even cares about someone within these walls; is cursed! 'The Rose Garden' only lives by one rule Kitty…" Rogue's eyes sought Kitty's portraying their overwhelming truth.

"All beauty must die…"


	5. It's a Way to Pay the Bills

* * *

A/N: I am sooooooooo sorry for the incredibly slow update! My time has been taken up with exams and work. But never mind, I'm here now! Oh, and to save confusion; I have changed my pen-name!

Thank you to all of those who reviewed, I dedicate this chapter to you! Now we start to enter the realms of the actual plot - not just introduction! Hope you enjoy!

Oh, and I appologise for my awful version of the character's accents - especially Rogue's! But, I'm sure you all know how she is supposed to sound...so add in the bits that I miss hehe!

Disclaimer: 'Honestly officer, it's not mine! I don't know how it got there!'

A/N: Just some helpful information; Character ages:

Emma - 25/turning 26

Jean - 23

Rogue - just turned 20

Tabitha - 19

Kitty - just turned 19

Amara - 18/turning 19

* * *

_**It's a Way to Pay the Bills**_

"_Keep on" Will Young_

Rogue could see it in Kitty's eyes; she didn't believe her. Of course she didn't; Rogue had thought Betsy insane when she had divulged the secret of the 'curse' - and Kitty was just the same. Those wide disbelieving eyes staring up at her, all their innocence portrayed in a single look - given so easily. How could Rogue expect Kitty to believe her if she wasn't entirely sure that she believed herself. Rogue was far to rational to believe in curses and the like - but then what was her explanation for all of the horror and suffering that plagued this place, their 'home'. No, Rogue had witnessed the downfall of far too many good women. But, was it really a curse? Or simple the fault of the gender biased world in which they were all immersed?

Rogue admitted defeat. Her plan had been to warn off the young thing - save her - without scaring her and divulging those secrets that she held close for a reason. She realised, now, that there was no way she could make Kitty understand - well, not without traumatising the poor girl, at least. Kitty would have to discover the heartache, that came with working at 'The Rose Garden', for herself.

"Just look after ya self, Kit." Rogue held the young girls gaze "Promise me that you will come to me, no matter what. Don't agree to anything without telling me."

"I promise…"

* * *

"_You know I'm gonna keep on, gonna keep on  
Nowhere else to go…"_

She studied her odd reflection with awed eyes. Perfectly placed hair swaying gracefully around her face, dramatically black framed eyes, smoothly flawless skin and plump cherry-lips - she looked beautiful. The difference correctly applied make-up could make was amazing; Katherine Pryde could barely recognise herself in the mirror.

"…_I like it with the heat on, so put the heat on  
I get there on my own…"_

Kitty had been living at 'The Rose Garden' for six days now. Six days of rehearsals, gossip and laughter. Six days spent behind the scenes; zipping-up dresses, applying make-up and curling hair for the other girls. But today was Friday and, in precisely twenty minutes, Kitty's days of hiding backstage would be officially over: Tonight was her debut.

"…_You know I'm gonna ride it, I won't hide it  
I told you all along…"_

The girls had already strapped her into her outfit, straightened her hair and applied more make-up than Kitty had previously thought was physically possible. Now she was left to wait as they all rushed around her, prettying themselves. For once Kitty did not offer her help or her opinions; she just studied her own reflection: Her vibrant fuchsia outfit, clung to curves that she never knew existed - making her appear, something close to the women she shared her residence with. It was all too surreal.

Kitty felt … wrong; there was no other way to describe it. She felt uncomfortable and restricted - even though her outfit was loose enough for her to dance in; she felt sick - even though she was not ill; and she felt clammy - even though she could feel the draft, that was ever present within the dressing-room. Kitty knew what was wrong, she had heard others discussing such feelings before performances - even though she herself had never experienced it; she was nervous. The type of nervous people suffer from when they have to give a presentation or perform on stage. Katherine Pryde had never suffered from nerves before.

"…_But none of that don't matter, let's get it on…"_

"Ya'll alright sugar?" Rogue's reflection had suddenly appeared next to Kitty's in the mirror. They were both sporting the same white-shirt, waistcoat and shorts costume - Kitty's waistcoat and shorts being pink and Rogue's a gleaming emerald - but the contrast between the pair was, almost, humorous. Rogue stood tall - sexy, sassy and completely comfortable with the situation; whereas Kitty appeared timid, pale and so very small.

"…_Cos it pays to do your best  
Do it better than the rest…"_

With a suddenly tight throat, all Kitty could manage was a slight nod in return. To which Rogue turned and exited the dressing-room - clearly assuming that the younger woman would follow. Kitty had grown used to the Rogue's strange behaviour over the last six days; whereas the other girls would simply grab her hand and lead her in the right direction - Emma preferring to forcefully grasp her shoulders and steer - Rogue tended not to make physical contact.

"…_And I hate to say I'm wrong,  
I can see what's going on…"_

When Kitty had followed Rogue into their small kitchen, she found her standing by the table - which held two glasses and a bottle of something, unmistakably, alcoholic.

"A lil' bit of Dutch-courage - ya looked like ya needed it." Rogue's statement was ended abruptly as she slammed back her own drink and offered the other to her companion - which Kitty, uncharacteristically, accepted. As Kitty allowed the burning liquid to consume her throat, her body lowered itself into a chair and unconsciously reached for the bottle.

"I, like totally, know the dance by heart. I could probably even, like, do it in my sleep! It's just…" Kitty hesitated, wondering if her next question would offend her, almost, friend. "…Is it wrong?" she finally asked - her voice quieter then she had intended.

"Is what wrong?"

"To, like - you know - get paid to dance around, so that they can...well…" Kitty's face flushed and she realised that the alcohol was finally having an effect.

"Get turned on?" Rogue finished Kitty's sentence with a slight twitch in the corners of her mouth. She watched the young girls face flush again as Kitty pushed the glass away. Rogue's humour evaporated as she once again saw the naivety of her companion.

"No, sugar…ya got it wrong. If ya see us as _their _entertainment, ya'll drive yaself crazy. All ya doin' is putting on a show - just like all ya other dance-shows back home. If some guy happens to like what he sees, then that ain't ya fault! It's his problem, ya just havin' fun."

"You know…I wouldn't even, like, sit on my boyfriend's lap - in case he, like, got too _excited_…" Kitty grimaced at how childish she sounded "Now look at me…I'm, like, working in a strip club!"

"…_And at times it makes me mad  
Cos this thing is all I have…"_

"Ya'll do fine sugar. Ya are tha best dancer we have; ya just gotta pretend that ya don't know what they're thinking when they watch ya dance. Ignorance is bliss and all that jazz…it will keep ya from goin' crazy."

Just then, a bell sounded from the dressing room, making Kitty's heart jump uncomfortably. Rogue took another swig of her drink before rising and straightening her outfit.

"Come on sugar; ya audience awaits…"

"…_Got to see a way,  
Oh, how I love it, how I love it…"_

* * *

The music thrummed through Kitty's veins as the beat took over and five hands slapped against cool metal, in perfect unison. Her body moved without the permission of her head; swaying, twisting and spinning the moves that she had committed to memory. The pole was cold beneath her skin as she slid gracefully around it; the lights and the general haze of the smoky club, submerging them in a seductive smog.

"…_You know I'm gonna keep on, gonna keep on  
Nowhere else to go,  
I like it with the heat on, so put the heat on  
I get there on my own,  
You know I'm gonna ride it, I won't hide it  
I told you all along,  
But none of that don't matter, let's get it on…"_

There were no blinding spotlights - to hide the audience from their entertainer - like there had been at her dance shows; she could see each one of their stares. But luckily, only a handful of them were studying the newcomer; almost every, lust filled, eye in the room was directed at the goddess dominating the centre of the stage. Whereas the rest of them danced, Rogue flowed. Although she was dancing the same steps as her five companions, Rogue's unique sensuality transformed each move - so that her dance bared no resemblance to the other's.

"…_It's a way to pay the bills  
But I need to get my thrills…"_

As the music picked up, five waistcoats - blue, silver, pink, violet and emerald - were discarded and their owners moved to form a line at then front of the stage. Five pairs of hips sway in unison, ten hands caressing and touching - the audience were enamoured. As the beat became more prominent, their shirts were ripped open - scattering fifty pearl buttons onto the audience below - exposing their sequined bandeaux bikini-tops; silver, pink, emerald, violet and blue.

"…_Just until I'm satisfied  
But I need to feel alive…"_

For pairs of feet descended the stairs at the front of the stage, leaving Katherine Pryde at the centre of attention. She was a professional, dancing each step perfectly; twisting and swaying - never missing a beat. She was accomplished and confident - even more so, now that there was no one to upstage her. A deafening roar erupted from the awaiting crowd, as Kitty's shirt was thrown towards them and she began her descent into their midst.

"…_You gotta hurt before you heal  
Take a dream and make it real  
I've been waiting too long  
Hey I'm coming, hey I'm coming…" _

"You've got 'em hooked!" Tabby's lips hardly moved as she whispered her encouragement to their newest member, as she brushed past her.

* * *

"…_Like a diamond in the rough  
Keep on 'til I've had enough…"_

"Like, oh my god! That was, like, so totally awesome!" Katherine Pryde was buzzing as she entered the dressing room - with a large wad of notes secured tightly in her fist.

"Yeah, girl! You were awesome!" Tabby high-fived the 'newbie', with her Cheshire-cat grin locked in place.

"Well done!" Amara smiled, warmly placing a hand on Kitty's shoulder.

"You did wonderfully." Jean - who had watched the entire show from the audience - leant forward to quickly embrace the younger girl and place a swift kiss on her cheek.

"Well, you didn't screw it up…" Emma appeared at the door with Rogue. The latter striding straight towards the safe.

"Like, thanks Emma…I think." Kitty frowned before turning towards Tabitha, Amara and Jean "Can you guys, like, believe this! Look at it all!" She gushed whilst waving her money adorned had towards them.

"Wahoo! We are so going shopping!" Tabby grinned. Amara lunged for the money and immediately started counting, whilst Jean and Tabby took Kitty by the arms and started squealing in hysterics.

"Not, unless she gets the same amount tomorrow." With that Emma waltzed forward a took the money from Amara.

"Hey!" Tabby yelled, pushing forward and squaring up to Emma.

"You know the rules Tabby! This money goes in the safe, just like the rest of it." Emma held the money back towards Rogue, who was now carrying a small, tin money box.

"Come on, Emma! It's her first night!" Tabby advanced forward, trying to grab the money back; but immediately withdrawing once Rogue had claimed it from Emma.

"What's, like, going on?" Kitty looked between Emma and Tabby with a bemused expression, before finally looking to Rogue for an answer.

"Calm down gals, this is Kitty's choice…" Rogue directed towards the fighting blondes. She then held out the money for Kitty to take "It ain't nuthin' personal sugar, it's just that we have a few rules. Ya'll are more than welcome to do what ya like with ya own money. But we usually put aside _all_ of the takings from 'Friday night shows'" As if to emphasise her point, Rogue walked around the room collecting a stack of notes from each of the girls. "Ya see; we _all_ put on a show tonight and although those tips were handed to _you_, we all put in the effort."

"Those guys just stuff the money down the first G-string that passes by. They don't pay attention to which barely clothed girl did what and how well - just as long as they were half naked whilst doing it." Emma supplied, as Rogue unlocked the tin and placed the money inside.

"This is our safety net…money that is there for any of us to use, in an emergency. Ah hope we never have ta use it, but…things happen around here." Rogue shrugged and smiled towards Kitty "But these are yoah first earnings, and it's unfair of us ta take them from ya."

"No, like take it…" Kitty handed the money - which was now leaving a burning sensation on her skin - back to Rogue "It's only fair. It's not like I was going to spend it any time soon - we can use tomorrows tips to, like, go shopping…" she looked towards Tabby for encouragement "Right Tabs?"

"Sure!" Taby seemed satisfied as she skipped towards her locker and started to undress.

* * *

"We she so have a party to celebrate!" Tabitha Smith announced as she emerged from the shower area - clad in a towel.

"Celebrate what?" Jeans curious voice drifted from the 'wardrobe' where she was hanging up what was left of the girls outfits.

"Like duh! Kitty's first night!" Tabby squealed whilst dropping her towel - to which everyone sighed and averted their eyes - and reaching for her clothes.

"Great idea! I'll go ask Logan to help, once I'm ready." Amara offered "…Oh, and I'll see if Scott will hang around as well!" Amara raised her voice slightly, throwing a conspiratorial grin at Tabby and then glancing in the direction of the wardrobe - and Jean.

"Don't forget Piotr!" Tabby sung as her head surfaced from the inside of her t-shirt.

"…_Gonna shimmer like the sun  
I can warm up everyone…" _

"You guys, like totally, don't have to do this." kitty blushed.

"It will be great!" Amara assured her.

"Hey, if there's alcohol on offer; I'm there!" Emma threw over her shoulder, from her place at the dressing table.

"…_It's coming like a miracle  
When you rise you never fall  
I've been waiting so long  
Hey it's coming, hey it's coming…"  
_

"Why not, we could all use some…" Rogue was interrupted by the loud banging of the door being thrown open - and the startled screams of her companions.

"…_You know I'm gonna keep on, gonna keep on  
Nowhere else to go  
I like it with the heat on, so put the heat on  
I get there on my own  
You know I'm gonna ride it, I won't hide it  
I told you all along  
But none of that don't matter, let's get it on…" _

"Hey girls." The low growl came from the giant now dominating the doorway. He was only a few inches shorter than Piotr, and clad in the same black suit and shirt combination that the Russian wore for work - as one of the clubs bouncers. The stranger was well built, with powerful muscles encasing his body. His long blonde hair was pulled back at the base of his neck, exposing his hard face and framing his dark eyes - that roamed the room before settling on Kitty. His lips were curled into a chilling smile.

"Creed! Get out! This is the changing room, we could have been in the shower or something!" Emma screeched, as everyone stood up.

"I was counting on it…" Creed spared a glace and a smirk at Emma before returning his attentions back to Kitty - who was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable under his scrutiny "I'm actually quite disappointed…"

"What do ya want Creed?" Rogue stepped forwards and into his line of vision. With her arms crossed over her chest, she took the perfect defensive stance between Creed and Kitty.

"I thought I'd come down and check out your new _talent_." Creed inclined his head so that he could leer at Kitty over Rogues shoulder. Once again, Rogue stepped between them.

"Well, now ya have…so why don't ya leave?" At Rogue's words, Creed turned his focus to her; a sneer twisting onto his features.

"Well now, no need to be so defensive. I was just looking for a _private_ moment with the girl."

"Too bad, move along." Rogue narrowed her eyes and squared her shoulders.

"Come now Roguey, lets not be difficult. Mr Lensher promised me a _bonus_ and I'm here to collect." He gestured towards Kitty, an action which prompted the other girls to close ranks around her. Tabby to her left, Amara on her right and Jean securely behind her. Emma took a step backwards, towards Kitty, but kept her eyes focussed on Rogue.

"Well, Ah'm sorry, but Kitty is our new _dancer_. Ya want a good time, find yaself a hooker." Creed threw his head back and released a ground rumbling chuckle.

"Maybe I will…but I'd rather have _her_." Jean's hand went to Kitty shoulder, pulling her backwards, further from the leering giant.

"That's never goin' ta happen." Creed looked down for a second, before shaking his head and lifting his eyes to Rogue. His demeanour had changed - tenser, more dangerous - all humour was gone.

"Come on Roguey, don't be difficult now…" His voice was low and dangerous, causing Emma to tense.

"It's late. Why don't we all go to bed? The party can wait till tomorrow." Emma's words had Jean's hand tightening on Kitty's shoulder. With Tabby and Amara flanking them, Jean steered Kitty out of harms way - with Emma on their tail.

"Leave Creed." It was Rogue's whispered plea that forced Kitty to pause at the door. Why wasn't Rogue coming with them?

"…_Why wait, what you holding on for?  
I just go around and around  
It isn't gonna take too long  
It's late, but not too late  
It's time for reaching out  
Somebody's gonna take me away…" _

"Is she really worth that much, huh? Do we really have to do this?!" Creed's voice rose as he took a step closer to Rogue. She suddenly looked smaller, engulfed by his shadow.

"We don't have to do this Creed. Find yaself some street-walker ta deal with ya frustrations. Leave us alone!" Rogue's voice was stronger, again, as she glare towards Emma. _Get them out of here!_ Her silent message was portrayed with her eyes; Emma took Kitty's hand and pulled her towards the door.

"YOU DO NOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?! HOW DARE _YOU _GIVE _ME _ORDERS!" Creed's voice had reached a menacing pitch, that sent a shiver down Kitty's spine. She turned her head to take one last look at Rogue, before the door shut. Creed moved forward, lifting his hand. The strike was enough to send Rogue spinning to the floor, leaving the giant to loom over her. "BITCH!"

"…_You gotta hurt before you heal…" _

The door swung forward, obstructing Kitty's view, four pairs of hands dragged her towards the stairs.

"No! Wait…we, like, have to go back!" Kitty pleaded, as she struggled to turn around.

"COME ON ROGUEY! ARE WE REALLY GOING TO DO THIS, HUH?! DOES IT REALLY HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS?!" Creed's voice echoed down the hallway, casing the girls to stop. It was then that Kitty realised that Amara and Jean were shaking and Tabby's hand had such a tight hold of hers, that her nails were in fact drawing blood. But, it was Emma's pale face that stopped Kitty's struggling as they began their ascent - at a much faster pace. When they reached the top of the stairs, Emma grabbed five keys from their hooks - leaving one key, that was attached to a green gem, firmly in it's place.

"Everyone in their rooms, lock them from the inside! Don't come out till morning." Emma's words were frantic, matching her darting eyes. Tabby, Amara and Jean retrieved their keys from the blonde's hand. "I'll go tell Logan to lock up for the evening…he shouldn't be here…" With that, she thrust Kitty's key towards Tabby and headed for the stairs.

"Come on Kit, it's been a long night…you should rest." Tabby took Kitty's arm, as Amara and Jean disappeared into their rooms - locks clicking.

"No! Tabby, what about Rogue?" Kitty stared at her friend in disbelief.

"She'll be fine Kit. Come on, you'll be safer in your room."

"But he _hit_ her!" Kitty wouldn't budge, standing halfway between her room and the stairs. Tabby sighed and moved forwards to open Kitty's door, turning her back on the innocent girl - it was easier to lie that way.

"It's fine Kit, honestly. Rogue and Creed…their relationship…it's complicated. Everything will be back to normal in the morning, _I promise_."

"In your rooms NOW! THAT'S AN ORDER!" Emma came flying up the stairs with a new set of keys in her hand. Tabby stood away from Kitty's door, motioning her inside. Kitty looked between the two blondes, causing Emma to sigh and shake the keys in her hand. "Do it now Katherine, or I'll lock you in there myself!"

Kitty moved past Tabby and into her room, shutting and locking her own door. This was followed by the sound of two other doors repeating the action.

* * *

Kitty lay in her bed, trying to make sense of the situation; they were locked in, Logan had locked up and Rogue was downstairs. It made no sense.

It was too quiet; there was no music or talking to break the silence, no one was watching television in their rooms or tidying up ready for bed. Night time was never this quiet when you slept in a boarding house full of girls - it was almost as though everybody was holding their breath. They were scared - even Emma…even Rogue. But they always looked out for each other, wasn't that the rule? So why would they leave Rogue, alone, with an obviously violent man? It made no sense.

Tabby had said that Rogue and Creed's relationship was complicated. But what sort of relationship was it exactly? They didn't appear to like each other. But the girls didn't seem too shocked about the situation, perhaps it has happened before?

Still, why would they leave her to face him alone?…Unless she wasn't in any danger. Kitty had heard the girls speak of their various _clients_ and some of their _expectations_. Perhaps Creed was a client? Was this all an elaborate act?

Yes. That had to be it. The girls would not have left Rogue if she were in any danger. Like Tabby said _"Everything will be back to normal in the morning"_

"…_Take a dream and make it real  
I've been waiting too long  
Hey I'm coming, hey I'm coming…" _

With her conscience eased; Kitty's eyes began to drop and the clouds of unconsciousness swelled in her head. The last thing she heard was a deafening crash, breaking the spell of silence.

"…_You know I'm gonna keep on, gonna keep on  
Nowhere else to go…" _

* * *

A/N: I will _try _to update sooner, especially since I left it on a cliffy! But would appreciate some more reviews - they motivate me!


	6. Forget What He Did

A/N: Woo, an update! So this chappy feels slightly 'bitty' to me; but I wanted to show each of the characters' reactions to the situation, and really explore how they react to different characters. I apologise to any Jean lovers, as she doesn't appear in this chapter. She will have an entire storyline to herself, later on - but she will not be involved in many of the main plotlines. I want to make it appear as though she doesn't really belong there…hopefully I will be successful lol!

So, enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: Are you serious?!

* * *

_**Forget What He Did**_

"…_Some of us laugh, Some of us cry, Some of us smoke and Some of us lies,_

_But it's all just the way that we cope with our lives…"_

"_Some of Us" by Starsailor_

Her dreams had been plagued by poles, lights and men with blonde ponytails. But now, as consciousness dawned on her, all nightmares were forgotten; all she had left to face was the dull ache that surged through her body.

Katherine Pryde was now fully awake, as she reached for the aspirin bottle beside her bed. She would never sleep on adrenaline again; her aches had nothing to do with the physical exertion of last nights show - and everything to do with the adrenaline that had fuelled the performance. She wouldn't be able to sleep until the pills rid her of the niggling pain.

Kitty sat up; she had never awoken this exhausted before. Rogue was right, another couple of days of this and she would be sleeping like Emma. Nevertheless, last night was fun - exhilarating; perhaps now was the time to add the memory to her diary…which she had left in the dressing room.

Climbing out of bed Kitty looked at her alarm clock; 6:30 - too early to disturb anyone. She would go to get her diary and a glass of water, fill in last nights entry and then try to catch a little more sleep; that was the plan anyway.

* * *

She pushed the door to the dressing room open, pausing as a jolt of shock froze her in place. There was someone in the room. Clothes from the rails were strewn across the floor; make-up, bottles of perfume and hair accessories spilled around the broken dressing table that had once held them. As Kitty took in the scene before her, the memory of last night was brought crashing back to her. Rogue stood in the centre of the debris; a feather boa in one hand and a corset in the other, as though she was in the middle of tidying them away. Rogue stood as frozen as Kitty - equally as shocked to find another awake at this hour.

"Um, like, sorry to disturb you…" Kitty stammered as she took in her co-worker's appearance. Rogue was clad in a hunter-green robe, with her wet hair pulled over one shoulder; she had clearly just taken a shower.

"Mornin' Kit." Rogue gave a shaky smile and pulled the robe tighter across her body "What ya doin' up at this hour?"

"Just, like, came to get my diary…What happened?" Kitty gestured towards the disruption.

"Ah'll get ya diary. Where did ya leave it?" Rogue subtly ignored Kitty's question with one of here own.

"It was, like, on the dressing table last night…" Kitty tailed off, looking towards the pile of wood that barely resembled their table.

"Ya wait here - don't try and touch anythang. Ah'll get it for ya…" Rogue moved towards the destruction, digging her nails into her palms to control the shaking that engulfed her body.

_**Flashback**_

**_She tried to scramble away; but rough hands gripped her arms and hauled her from the floor. She was shoved backwards, before she had a chance to get her balance. The table crashed into her back, sending bottles spinning to the floor. __He grabbed her wrists and moved above her; the table shifting with their combine weight…_**

_**End Of Flashback**_

Rogue shook her head to disperse the memory. No, she would not dwell on it…she was stronger than that.

Kitty watched as the older woman stared at the broken table; perhaps Rogue was wondering what to look for?

"Um…the book is, like, pink and kind of fluffy…" Rogue had started to sift through the debris "But the pen is, like, really special…my Gramps, like, gave it to me before he died. It's got this, like, fairy on top and…" Kitty tailed off when Rogue stood, holding the diary "Sorry, I was, like, rambling…Oh, my Gosh!" Kitty rushed forwards to grab the book.

Rogue had noticed it too; the little fairy, that adorned the top of the pen, was missing it's left wing. It must have broken when Creed…

"Ah'm so sorry Kit! Ah'll get ya a new one…"

"No, it's fine. Don't, like, worry about it…" Kitty tried to hold her tears back.

"No, Kit; Ah know how much ya granddad meant to ya. Ah'll get ya a new one, ah promise!"

"No, honestly; It, like, wasn't your fault…" An awkward silence gripped the room; they both knew whose fault it was.

"Why don't ya go back upstairs Kit…Ah have ta get this sorted before the gals wake up."

"I could, like, help you…" Rogue opened her mouth to protest but Kitty cut her off "It will be done quicker if I help…"

"Fine. Ya take the clothes, ah'll do the rest."

* * *

After half an hour of sorting through the clothes on the floor, Kitty spotted something that looked familiar; Rogue's shirt from the night before - and there was blood on the shoulder. She looked to where Rogue was clearing the glass of a smashed bottle; she was moving stiffly, as though she were injured. Kitty picked up the shirt and went to face her friend.

"Rogue?" Kitty's soft voice caused the older woman to turn towards her and the damaged top she held "What happened last night?"

"Leave it Kit, it ain't yoah problem." Rogue pulled the top from Kitty's hand and turned to continue her tidying.

"But it, like, is! That guy said he was here for me... Please talk to me…" At Kitty's pleading, Rogue turned her attention back to the young girl.

"Good night Kitty."

"What?"

"Go back ta bed Katherine. Ah don't care if ya sleep or if ya write yoah lil' diary; but ya are goin' ta get the hell outta here!" Rogue's eyes had turned cold "This is none of yoah business! So ya are goin' ta go back ta yoah room and ya ain't leavin' it till everyone else is awake! Ya hear?!"

* * *

As Kitty stormed up the stairs, she vowed that she would never talk to Rogue again. She was rude, insensitive and self-obsessed, Kitty was not going to help with her power-trip! (A/N: Just a little overreaction to illustrate Kitty's naivety)

"You should cut her some slack, you know." Emma's crisp voice came from the room at the end of the hall. It was unoccupied; but Kitty had been told that their only fire-exit led off of that bedroom - and Emma liked to use the fire-escape for her morning smoke.

"I offered to help and she was, like totally, rude! I'm sick of everyone treating me like I don't have the right to live here, just because I'm new!"

"Maybe you should stop feeling sorry for yourself and be thankful that it isn't you down there!" Emma's angry face came into view.

"I am! It's just…why do you all, like, keep secrets from me?"

"_We_ don't, that's just your own paranoia. Rogue doesn't like to talk about things, that's just how she is - _who_ she is."

"I just, like, feel responsible…" Kitty was beginning to feel like a scolded child.

"Look, far be it from me to ease your conscience; but Creed hasn't paid us a visit in a while. It was going to happen eventually, you just gave him an excuse - _not that he usually needs one_…" Emma's muttered comment caused Kitty to raise her eyebrow "Go to bed Kitty…the situation will handle itself."

* * *

The liquid barely burned her throat anymore; she could still remember the time - so long ago - when she would cough on her first sip, due to the intensity of the liquid. Now she barely registered it; perhaps her 'little problem' was becoming as bad as Emma's. A quick glance at her watched showed the time to be 7:30; Logan would be there in an hour. That would give Scott - who was currently fixing the dressing table - enough time to finish before Logan turned up. She sighed and poured herself another drink. Drinking at 7:30 in the morning; perhaps her 'little problem' was becoming as bad as Raven's.

"Scott here?" Emma asked as she made her way into the kitchen.

"Yeah. A little early for you ain't it?" Rogue's way of letting Emma know that she should - not enquire as to what Creed had broken this time and - change the subject. Emma eyed Rogue's glass in return.

"A little early full stop, isn't it?" Rogue gave one of her 'bitter-sweet' smiles before slamming back the rest of her drink "You call Dr McCoy?"

"Nope." Emma's eyebrow raised at the answer. "He wasn't needed. It ain't fair to call him out all tha time; we shouldn't put him on the wrong side of Eric."

"You're the expert in these situations…" Rogue's look, once again, told Emma that it was time for a subject change. "I don't think you should work tonight."

"That will go down well…" Rogue's laugh was full of sarcasm.

"Lensherr will have to deal with it. He isn't going to like it if he has to start giving out refunds, because the 'merchandise' is black and blue. If he doesn't want to lose money, maybe he should keep better control of his 'pet'"

"Fine…" Rogue agreed, so that Emma would not elaborate on her references to Creed and the night before. "Ah'll call him now and ask for a meetin' when he gets in."

"I'll talk to him." It was Rogue's turn to raise her eyebrows; Emma had a temper - and dealing with Eric Lensherr was not easy. "I'll behave - Scouts honour. Why don't you go and rest."

"Ah'm fine"

"You haven't slept all night." Emma's eyes challenged Rogue to argue further.

"Fine, but we need to sort out tonight first." Rogue reached behind her and grabbed the timetable from the notice board.

"What have you got on tonight?" Emma asked studying Rogue's column.

"Silver suite at nine, Platinum at twelve and ah'm workin' 'the Corner' from 10:30. Ah'm supposed ta be on stage at 10:10." Emma studied the other columns.

"We can work that. Go and get some rest, I'll see you later." Rogue took the bottle and glass with her as she headed for the door.

"Oh, and Emma? Ah think Logan should be kept outta tha loop on this one." Emma gave a sarcastic salute before watching her 'superior' walk away. _One of theses days, I'm going to fucking kill Creed myself!_

* * *

"Morning, smiley!" Emma sashayed over to the bar, where Tabby and Amara's incessant giggling was, rather obviously, annoying Logan.

"Morning? Frost, it's half one in the afternoon… And can you two give it a rest for five seconds?! I'm trying to stock take!" Logan's grumbled reply brought a smile to Emma's lips.

"Afternoon, smiley!" Logan's glare only succeeded in amusing Emma further.

"Where's Rogue? Ain't like her to stay hauled up all day."

"Resting. You know she's been worried about Kitty…guess it finally caught up with her…"

"She alright?"

"A little 'under the weather'" Logan frowned and started to interrogate Emma further; but he was interrupted by the club doors opening. Poitr Rasputin held them wide for his boss, Eric Lensherr - Emma was glad he had, had the decency not to bring Creed.

"This better be good!" Lensherr threw at Emma before heading towards his office.

"What's that about?" Logan was getting suspicious.

"I told you; Rogue isn't feeling too brilliant. So we have to re-work the shifts tonight…" Emma headed off to Lensherr's office without listening to Logan's gruff retort.

* * *

Katherine Pryde entered the bar to find an agitated Logan and two very excited teenagers.

"Hey Kit! We were just planning our shopping spree tomorrow!" Tabby greeted her as she joined the two of them at the bar.

"What sort of things are you looking for?" Amara piped up.

"Um…I think I'd better, like, get something to brighten up my room. It's, like totally, boring at the moment!" Kitty laughed along and listened to their shopping suggestions. After a while the conversation moved on to less pressing matters and Kitty decided it was time to clear up a few things.

"So, like, who was that guy last night?" Amara and Tabby exchanged a quick look and then glanced at Logan.

"You have to narrow it down hun, there were plenty of guys here last night." Tabby replied, laughing off the comment.

"I meant, like, the guy who came into the dressing room?" A loud crash echoed around the room, as Logan dropped the glass he was holding and rushed over to the girls. Tabby and Amara had stiffened immediately and the room had become swamped with the tension created by the situation. It felt as though they were standing in a landmine, just waiting for something to go off.

"There was a guy in the dressing room?! Why wasn't I told about this?!" Logan's roar caused a shiver of fear to envelope Kitty.

"We didn't need _you_, it was sorted…" Tabby's voice came out in a rush - completely unconvincing.

"Didn't need me, huh? So come on Tabs, lets have it; who was this 'mysterious' visitor you had?" Logan's voice was dangerous - even Tabby leant away from his aggressive from.

"It doesn't matter! He left…" Logan grabbed Tabby's arm and pulled her towards him.

"I asked you who it was!" Tabby shook her head and tried to loosen his grip. "WHO WAS IT?!" Logan was so livid, his face was red; he looked as though he was planning on squeezing the information out of Tabby - one way or another.

"We can't tell you!" Amara squeaked, out of fear for her best friend. Apparently that was all Logan needed to hear; he promptly dropped Tabby's arm

"Creed!" Logan's voice had dropped to a low growl but it sounded ten-times more dangerous than his, previous, deafening roar. "That's it! He has gone too far; he will pay this time. I am going to kill the fucker; WITH. MY. BARE. HANDS!"

* * *

"So, Miss Frost; what, may I ask, is the meaning of this meeting?" Eric Lensherr sat behind his over-sized desk and appraised the young woman in front of him. "After all, I do usually deal with Miss Rogue…"

"Rogue isn't working tonight" Short, simple and straight to the point - how very Emma.

"I think you'll find that she is, my dear. Now, was there anything else you wished to discuss?" Lensherr smiled politely, clearly bringing the conversation to a close and leaving Emma speechless.

"But…"

"Leave it Emma, Ah'll sort it." Rogue's melodic voice drifted from the doorway. Eric's attention switched immediately.

"Why, Miss Rogue! How wonderful to see you." He graciously inclined his head towards Rogue, clearly ignoring Emma. "Although, perhaps it would have been more polite to wait for my meeting to end? I do have a perfectly good reception area outside."

"My apologies Eric…" Emma blanched at Rogue's use of his first name "But, this is my meeting, Emma was just filling my place."

"Well then, why don't you come in and then we can leave Miss Frost to get on with her own business?" Clearly dismisted, Emma made her way towards the door - secretly relieved that she would not be forced to argue with her domineering employer. Rogue placed a reassuring hand on Emma's shoulder as they passed. Once the door was shut, Rogue lowered herself into Emma's vacated chair.

* * *

"Wait!" Emma entered the bar to find a harassed looking Tabitha chasing after a livid Logan, who was heading for the door.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Emma had caught Logan's attention immediately. He barrelled towards her - nostrils flaring - and forcefully seized her arm.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Emma looked over at Tabby.

"I'm sorry, it was Kitty! She asked and…"

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME ABOUT CREED?!" Logan shook Emma to gain her attention.

"Because it was none of your business - and it isn't ours' either!" Emma pushed Logan's hand off of her and shoved him in the chest. "It is Rogue's choice whether she tells you or not." Logan's face was turning redder by the second. He wanted to kill Creed; smash him, crash him, break him! Logan's anger was building, he needed to get rid of some of his pent-up energy; but the only person, currently in the room, he would even consider hitting was Emma - and he knew that, that would not go down well. It would have to be an inanimte object instead.

"FUCK!" Logan roared as he knocked a table across the room - causing Amara and Kitty to jump out of the way.

"LOGAN! Chill!" Emma's firm tone seemed to pierce through Logan's rage induced haze. "Remember your 'Anger Management' courses." Logan breathed heavily and sat down.

"Where is she?"

"Talking to Lensherr about tonight…" Satisfied that Logan had calmed down and would not, therefore, do anything stupid; she turned to the three girls - Kitty and Amara, currently, being comforted by Tabby. "Which reminds me; I'm covering Rogue's 12 o'clock in Platinum and Jean will be covering her 9 o'clock in Silver. I'll also be taking your 10 o'clock in the Gold Suite tonight, Tabby and Jean will take your stage slot at 11pm. That makes you free to cover Rogue's stage performance at 10:10...which means, you'll be taking 'the Corner' tonight…"

"Awww, man!" Tabby groaned; everyone hated taking 'the Corner'. It was the VIP area of the club; a seating area and table built into an alcove - all of which could be surrounded by a curtain. It was the only place in the club that customers could get 'up close and personal' with the girls, without having to pay extra for the privacy of a suite. The only thing they were not allowed was full intercourse; but most clients liked to have fun testing the limitations of that rule.

"Either you do it, or I can work it so that Jean covers it because I need to be out on the floor as much as possible."

"Fine, I'll do it." Tabby replied reluctantly. Everyone knew that Jean avoided 'the Corner' - she didn't like to have to 'work' in such close proximity to Scott. _Why didn't those two just admit that they were in love and run off into the sunset; instead of awkwardly flirting and avoiding the fact that she shags people for money!_

* * *

"That little confusion just wasted me a great deal of time, Rogue. I would appreciate it if we could get to the point quickly."

"Ah'm not working tonight Eric."

"You and I both know that, that is an impossibility my dear." Eric looked over the woman in front of him. "You surprise me, Rogue. I would have thought you were stronger than this."

"Ya know me Eric; when ah'm knocked off the horse, ah'll get straight back on and _ride _it." Rogue paused, allowing her metaphor to sink in. "But ah'm a mess. No customer is goin' ta pay for me in this state. Unless ya want ta start givin' out refunds for 'damaged goods'…"

"How long?"

"Ah'll take tonight off and rest tomorrow - that should give enough time for the bruisin' ta go down. Ah can always cover some up with make-up; so, Ah'll be back on stage by Monday…" Rogue hesitated; she would have to word the next part carefully if she was going to convince her boss. "But Ah think Ah should wait a couple of days before Ah _entertain_ any clients…"

"Unacceptable. You will see me Monday night and _I_ will judge if you are ready to 'entertain'…" Rogue was a stubborn girl; who, unfortunately, did not seem to fear him as her co-workers did. This is why Eric found that she were far more pliable when given an incentive. "Or I could always insist that Miss Pryde take over your clients for the time being…"

"She is just a dancer!" Rogue's panic stricken face and hasty reply showed Lensherr that he had chosen his argument perfectly.

"That is true for now, my dear. However, there was quite a bit of interest shown in her last night; I could earn a great deal of money if I promoted her…"

"So what, ya sent Creed ta _break her in_?" There was that infamous temper of hers.

"You needn't have gotten hurt Rogue. If you had allowed Victor his _bonus_, you would have saved yourself a lot of pain. You have no one to blame but yourself, my dear."

"Ah will always be in between him and my girls Eric, Ah promise you that!"

"Your stubbornness is an admirable quality, I'm sure…" He tailed off, clearly showing that he found it more of a naissance than something to admire. "You _will _come to me on Monday night Rogue." This was the last they would say on the matter; Rogue nodded her agreement to the terms, reluctantly.

"Good girl." Rogue hated the patronising son of a… "Now that, that is all sorted; perhaps we can move on to other matters?" Eric smiled victoriously as he pulled an envelope off of his desk and offered it to Rogue. "I would appreciate it if you could pass this along to Miss Monroe. I believe she is visiting Charles tomorrow."

"This is for Mr Xavier?" At Eric's nod, Rogue's anger dissolved and was replaced with a - kind of - sympathy for the older man. "Ah'm sorry about Xavier…Ah know ya two were close."

"Indeed we were…at one time…"

"Do ya know who ordered the drive-by?"

"I have St John looking into it as we speak…" Eric suddenly appeared tired and much older, as the stress caused by Charles's 'incident' began to show hrough every line of his face.

"But ya think it was Essex?" Rogue's whispered enquiry spiked Eric's curiosity; the woman never ceased to surprise him.

"Yes, I have asked St John to pay close attention to Nathaniel Essex…but there has been no word as of yet." Rogue's face turned hard.

"When ya find out who it was…ya'll make 'em pay, right?" Eric chuckled at her reaction.

"My dear, I was under the impression that you frowned upon my ways of dealing with matters such as this."

"Ah do, believe me. But, the girls and Ah, we owe a lot ta Xavier." Her face softened as she looked around the office. "No matter what happens here, this place is our home. If Xavier hadn't of set up this club, we would all be on the streets." Rogue dropped her eyes, averting her gaze from the man studying her. "Sometimes Ah hate this life so much, ah pray not ta wake up in the mornin'…but at least Ah have a roof over my head - if it wasn't for Xavier, Ah wouldn't even have that." Rogue smiled sadly and lifted her eyes again. "And, whenever he used ta visit, he would talk ta ya like a human bein' - instead of somebody's whore."

"Yes, Charles always was a gentle soul; able to see good in anybody." Eric returned Rogue's smile - which she took as her cue to leave.

"Oh, and Eric?" He looked up to see her framed in the doorway; and at that moment, she looked just like the girl she had been when he first found her in his bar. "Could ya keep Creed out of my way, for a few days at least…If Ah'm goin' ta get back on my feet; it will be a lot easier if Creed isn't around." He nodded his agreement; Victor Creed was in enough trouble for causing their best employee to miss work - he wouldn't be recieving any privileges any time soon.

* * *

Rogue opened the bar door to find an exceedingly guilty looking Kitty, poised on the other side "I am, like, so sorry Rogue…" she whispered before running off towards their living quarters. Her behaviour made Rogue suspicious; something was going on. Rogue reassessed the rest of the room; Amara and Tabby were whispering at the bar, whilst Emma and Logan glared at each other across one of the tables. The sound of the door snapping shut made Rogue the centre of attention. Amara and Tabby looked at her with wide eyes, as guilty as Kitty; Emma turned her glare straight back to Logan - as if waiting for his reaction - whereas Logan, himself, looked as though he was about to explode. Her heart broke as she saw the pain on his face; _Logan…_

"I'm going to kill the bastard!" Logan flew to his feet immediately.

"Like hell ya are! Sit down Logan and have a drink, it's time ta cool off!" Rogue pushed him back towards his seat.

"Why wouldn't you tell me, kid?" His voice was softer, but still hovering on the edge of dangerous.

"Maybe Ah couldn't…Ya know me Logan; Ah'll deal with it myself - it's too hard ta ask for help." She avoided making eye contact with him.

"That why you didn't call McCoy?" Rogue threw an accusatory look at Emma. "Didn't need her to tell me; I can see it for myself. You're a mess kid!"

"Ah didn't need the Doc, Logan…" He snatched her hand from her side pulling her towards him. As she struggled to get away; he stood-up and yanked her sleeve to her elbow - exposing the bruising on her wrists and small cuts, that adorned her forearm, caused by the bottles that had broken when Creed forced her into them.

"Does this look normal to you, Kid?!" His voice rose again as he pulled the sleeve up further; revealing a deeply-purple, definite handprint that wrapped around her upper arm. "What about this, huh?!"

"Get, the fuck, off me jackass!" Rogue screamed as she pushed at his chest and yanked her arm free - securing her sleeve back in place(1) She had, had enough of being man-handled. "Fine, Logan - so Ah took a beatin'! Big deal; Ah get a day off work and Ah'll be fine come Monday. No broken bones, no deep wounds ta become infected and Creed was considerate enough ta wear protection... So why exactly should Ah have bothered Hank with all of this?!"

"Because it shouldn't be like this…" To everyone's horror, Logan's eyes began to fill with tears (A/N: Sorry; I have always wanted to do a crying Logan scene! But don't worry he is not completely bawling; it's just a few man tears lol)

"But it is, Sugah…" Rogue's eyes began to mist as she watched Logan pick up his beer bottle and throw it across the room.

"NO! It will stop now!" He pulled a gun from behind his back, causing all but Rogue to gasp and back away. "I will murder that sonofabitch! I'll fucking skin him alive!" As his voice broke, he started towards the door only to be pulled back by Rogue.

"Ya dare Logan! That ain't revenge; it's bloody suicide! If he don't kill ya, Lensherr will! Don't be a fuckin' idiot - don't waste yoah life on me!"

"I have to, Kid! Your like the daughter I never had…" Rogue, once again, pushed him back into his seat.

"Ya better listen good, Logan; Ah wasn't born through immaculate conception! Ah already have a father - Ah don't need another! What Ah need is a friend. Who, the fuck, will Ah have ta turn to if ya die?!" A few tears escaped Logan's eyes as he looked up at the girl towering over him. "Yes, Creed is a wanker - of the highest degree. But we have ta deal with him." She knelt down so that she could look him in the eye, as her voice trembled with emotion; imploring her closest friend to see sense. "He has done it before and Ah'm willin' ta bet he'll do it again. There's no changin' that; all Ah want is ta have ya there ta back me up. Ah don't wanna have ta mourn ya sugah; Ah couldn't cope with that…" Rogue tailed off as Logan pulled her into a fierce hug. She stiffened at first, but soon her tears overtook her body - making it hard for her to support herself.

"I wish I could save you kid…" Logan whispered into her hair. "This is killing me…"

* * *

A/N: So, I had originally planned for another scene to follow this; but it just seems right to end it here lol! Besides, that would have made the chapter end on a more comical not - which is not in keeping with the rest of the story. So, next chapter will start with a funny scene. Also, there are two very important appearances in the next chappy - which should make many people very happy!

Reviews will make me write faster!

(1) Okay, any _Prison Break_ viewers out there; I see this bit like the scene is season three, where Sucre is putting the bomb in Gretchen's car and she - irrationally - goes completely mental and yells _"What, Jackass?!" etc,_ at him.


	7. Ain't Such a Bad Place to Be

AN: I am sooooo sorry it took so long! But I made this chapter extra long to make up for the wait! I also apologise for the strong language used by several of the characters; what can I say, its just who they are. Oh, and as a final note (and then I will stop wasting your time, I promise!) I envision Logan as kind of like Luke from Gilmore Girls - facial expressions and short temper included, lol!

And now for the moment you have all been waiting for…

Disclaimer: I own the concept…not the characters.

* * *

_**Ain't Such A Bad Place to Be**_

"…_Soldier on, be strong, the simple reason is I'm skin and bone.  
Best not be scared, just to be aware that alone;_

_It ain't such a bad place to be because we're opposites  
I know you, so don't come creeping back, I'm on my feet again  
I'll show you, put you out like a cigarette  
A metaphor not to forget  
To forgive, it's positively wrong…"_

'_**Ain't Such A Bad Place to Be' by Will Young**_

Two hours after Rogue and Logan's emotional display, the girls were prettying themselves for that nights show - after promising Logan they would not mention the 'incident' ever again. Rogue was still tense; it had been three months since she last missed a show - and even then she was capable of working if she was needed. She didn't like leaving the girls 'unprotected', if something happened tonight she would never forgive herself. Then there was Kitty to consider; she was supposed to be eased in gently - instead, she was being thrown in at the deep-end because they were a girl short. But the the Roses seemed unaffected by the turn of events.

It was just like any other, normal, day in the dressing room; Amara was trying on different outfits for her performance, Tabby was painting her toenails - whilst clad in nothing but a thong and a bra, Jean was straightening her already perfect hair and Emma was smoking in the corner - not even having started to get ready. Rogue was ignoring her anxiety by helping a completely hopeless Kitty to apply her make up.

The tranquillity of the room was broken by a sharp squeal; Amara had suddenly frozen clutching a skirt to her exposed chest, in an attempt to cover herself. Tabby was by her side within a second, staring at her best friend with anxious eyes.

"What is it 'Mar?" At Tabby's question Jean moved towards the pair, scrutinising the wall where Amara's gaze was fixed.

"Spider?" The redhead guessed, throwing a confused look at Amara when she failed to notice anything out of place. Amara shook her head at Jean assumption, her eyes never leaving their focus.

"The red light is on…" All the others simply looked on with confusion, but Rogue felt a jolt of adrenaline as she made sense of the young girl's words. She was at Amara's shoulder and focused on the corner of the room before Amara could finish her sentence. "The camera is on!"

"No way!" Tabby turned her attention towards the small security camera, as she laughed in disbelief. "There is no way he would be _that_ stupid…"

"I wouldn't be so sure; Fred Dukes is as thick as shit." Emma added as she too scrutinised the camera. Rogue's reaction was instinctual; her lack of sleep and emotional turmoil over last night had left her feeling slightly reckless.

"Get yaselves decent gals; we're goin' nerd huntin'" She announced and stopped briefly to put on a pair of five-inch stiletto boots, before storming out of the room. Grapping their clothes, the girls followed suit; an air of excitement sweeping over them.

* * *

"What the hell are you up to now?" Logan demanded as the army of scantily-clad women marched through the club.

"Dukes has been spying again." Tabby explained with a smile, as she and Amara dragged a thoroughly bemused Kitty after their leader. Logan assessed the situation - Rogue was fuming and out for revenge - and stepped in between his favourite Rose and the door behind the bar.

"You need any help kid?" He asked, when Rogue glared at his interference.

"Do Ah look like Ah need ya help, Logan?!" She fumed in response, raising her eyebrows to challenge him. He automatically stepped down, letting her push past.

"Ten bucks says she leaves him with an injury." Emma grinned, throwing a note onto the bar as she passed.

"Fine. But I want twenty if she makes him cry as well." Logan agreed as he added his own note to the pile.

* * *

The door behind the bar led to the club's storage area, the 'security' headquarters and the real emergency exit. The walls were grey and damp and the floor was plain concrete. The storage area could be see through a large archway on the right wall; it consisted of three rooms, leading off of each other and joined by arches. The first room had been turned into a make-shift coat-room with a small curtained-off area at the back, where all of the non-live-in girls changed for work. The other two rooms were Logan's domain; filled with shelves and crates of alcohol ready and waiting to restock the bar - there was also a small desk and lamp, pushed into the corner of one of the rooms, which held all of Logan's paperwork and was, therefore, never used.

The 'security' headquarters and emergency exit were right down the opposite end of the corridor, on the far wall - two doors next to each other. In fact, they were so far down the corridor that they were actually part of next-doors building. The exit - which the girls had been taught to use in case of an emergency, because their fire-escape, upstairs, was too much of a safety hazard to actually be used - was really a door leading into the shop next-doors basement. It also served as an entrance and exit for their security officer, Fred Dukes; he, the Wild Roses, Ororo Monroe and Logan were the only people that knew of it's existence - as well as Mr Lensherr and his bullies, Victor Creed and Poitr Rasputin, of course.

But, at the moment, the girls only cared about the small room at the end of the corridor; they didn't even pause outside to knock - they just barrelled straight in and faced their Peeping-Tom.

* * *

The six girls burst through the door and fell into the cramped room. The majority of the room was filled with stacks of empty pizza boxes and bottles of beer; it was disgusting. The small desk, squashed against the far wall, held piles of small televisions; all showing a different view of the club - from outside to inside. In front of the desk sat an exceedingly large man who was in his early twenties; the small office-chair that he dominated appeared to be to small and frail to hold his bulk, especially with the arm-rests digging into his sides.

"Um…hey, girls…this is a surprise!" Fred Dukes stuttered, looking completely flustered and utterly guilty. Rogue put on a coy smile and made her way towards him; swaying her hips and inclining her head to make the perfect 'come hither' look.

"Now, don't ya tell me ya didn't see us coming…" She gestured towards the monitors on the desk, while positioning herself so that she was standing virtually in between Dukes' open legs.

"Um…well, yeah…I did, but…" He faltered when he noticed the alluring look in Rogue's eye. "How may I help you girls?"

"It's good of ya ta ask. Ya see; we have this lil' problem - it appears that the light is on, on the dressing room camera…" Rogue moved closer to the increasingly uneasy boy "Which would seem ta suggest that it was on…"

"That's impossible!" Fred objected, far too quickly "I swear; it isn't on Rogue!…Look at the monitors; it's not there!" Rogue shot a conspiratorial smile in Emma's direction. Clearly interpreting the instruction; the blonde made to move a pizza box that was, rather conspicuously, propped against one of the monitors - exposing a view of their dressing-room.

"Now how about that, gals? Ah think Freddie here has been lying ta us…"

"I swear; I don't know how it got turned on!…I didn't…I wouldn't…I, mean…" Dukes' stuttering was swiftly silenced by the dangerous flash that illuminated Rogue's eyes. Without warning, Rogue's foot had risen and was placed in between Fred's legs; the heel of her stiletto firmly placed against his groin. Suddenly the room was tense.

Kitty was shocked. She had heard of Rogue's reputation and experienced her infamous temper; but Katherine Pryde could honestly say that she had never seen anyone look as dangerous as Rogue did at that moment. Purely in complete control, yet wild enough to do anything; this was survival of the fittest and it was clear how Rogue was still standing.

"Now, ya'll are goin' ta turn that invasion of privacy off…and ya'll are goin' ta keep it off. Do ya understand me?" Rogue's voice was pitched so low that its woven threat could make even Logan squirm; yet it still managed to sound alluring. She was a human siren and all Freddie could do was nod.

"Then, ya'll are goin' ta destroy all of tha footage from tha dressin' room - without keepin' any copies. Is that clear enough?" Once again, Fred nodded. The mammoth man then emitted a strangled squeak as Rogue's heel was pressed closer to his manhood.

"Ah suggest ya stick ta tha rules from now on, sugar… 'cos tha next time Ah have ta come down here, Ah won't bring my stilettos; Ah'll bring my knife." Blessing Fred with a predator's smirk, Rogue removed her foot and turned to leave - leaving Freddie with a hammering heart and damp palms.

She was halfway towards the door before inspiration hit. Before anyone even notice the glowering of Rogue's eyes; she was already back in her previous position - Fred looking as though he may suffer a stroke, as a result of the near continuous stress the Angel was causing him.

"Give me tha tape from last night!" Her voice wasn't as controlled as before, which bothered the other girls; Rogue did not lose control in situations such as these. The slight change in her demeanour appeared to have confused her victim.

"What?" Fred's shaken question was barely audible. In his head he was re-living the last few moments; trying to discover what he had done to cause The Rogue to pounce.

"Ah said; Ah want the tapes from last night!…" She emphasised her demand by applying more pressure to her heel. "Ah don't trust ya ta delete it…Ah need ta makes sure that it's gone…"

"I…I, well…I can't…" Fred's body was starting to quiver.

"That's tha wrong answer, sugar…" Rogue's heel started to bite at his skin.

"No! Please!! It was Creed…I-It was Creed!"

"Explain." The order was barely a growl, but it caused a shiver to engulf all that heard it.

""H-He came in a-and got it this morning…I don't have it - I swear!"

_Creed. Of course he would. The bastard, the fucking bastard…_Freddie was released as Rogue regained control. She swept across the room and launched the monitor, displaying their dressing room, at the opposite wall. Her destructive behaviour appeared to have knocked Dukes out of his fear induced stupor.

"Are you crazy?! Do you have any idea how much that cost?!"

"Get Lensherr to bill me…" Rogue was in control again. She knew Creed; knew what to expect - so why should she expect anything else? So he had a tape of…it; so he could relive _it_ - maybe it would keep him entertained enough to stay away…for awhile.

"Come on girls."

As they made their way back towards the bar, the phrase "Crazy Bitch!" followed them through the halls. Rogue smirked as the tension finally left her body.

* * *

When the girls emerged back into the bar, Logan could see the difference in Rogue immediately.

"You look happier."

"Ah happen ta find that threatenin' someone's family jewels is very therapeutic." The Rogue grinned seductively and disappeared backstage, the girls in tow. Emma picked up her money as she passed the bar.

"Hang on there Blondie!" Logan's call caused Tabby and Emma to stop at the door. "You only bet 10 bucks." Emma smiled and place the 20, from the bar, down her top.

"That's funny, because I distinctly remember betting a 20..." her smirk only served to infuriate Logan further.

"Come on, hand the money over." Emma turned to Tabby - rather uncharacteristically - for support.

"How much did I bet Tabs?" The pixie blonde smiled impishly.

"Sorry Logie; but Emma owes me money, so I'm siding with her." Tabby reached down Emma's top and retrieved the note, as they followed the others.

"Bloody hookers! Can't trust 'em." His gruff mumble was interrupted by a shrill laugh.

"They've so got you wrapped around their fingers." Raven was leaning on the bar smirking at the imposing man in front of her - highly amused. "Tell me Logan; how does it feel to be so whipped?"

"Fuck off, Raven, and get back to work!"

"Moody Wanker…"

* * *

A month passed, and things had began to settle into a steady routine at the Rose Garden. The girls would wake up around 10 o'clock and spend their day taking care of whatever chores needed to be done; at 6 o'clock they would start preparing themselves for an evening of work; by 12:30pm the club would be cleared ready for the girls to have a wind-down, before heading to bed - of course there were a few exceptions to this rule, depending on whether one of the girls was entertaining a "special" client. Sundays, of course, were reserved for shopping and any other recreational activities the girls wished to partake in - however Logan would still come in, declaring that he needed to protect his bar against the girls (if he left them alone, there would be no alcohol left by Monday); but his real reasoning was so that he could look after them.

The normality of it all had lulled the girls into a false sense of security. They were perfectly comfortable to continue their lives as they had been; The Rogue went back to work after gaining Eric's "approval", Katherine Pryde had settled in and no-longer needed to be looked after, Fred Dukes had obviously taken Rogue's threat seriously and Victor Creed had apparently decided that his job security was far more important than his libido. However, exactly one month after that fatal week, the third unfortunate event hit the Wild Roses - just like they say; bad things always happen in threes.

* * *

It was a Friday evening and the girls had finished work for the night. Logan had yet to announce that the club was clear, so the girls were waiting in the dressing room. Amara and Kitty were trying to get Jean to admit that she dyes her hair, Emma was smoking and reading an out of date magazine, Rogue was pouring over several work-related documents and, as usual, Tabby was the last to be ready. A quiet knock rang through the room, but the visitor was ignored by it's occupants.

"I'm starving!" Tabby proclaimed as she threw herself on the bench, in between Kitty and Amara - after, finally, dragging herself away from the mirror. "You think Logan will cook me something?"

"I wouldn't push him tonight if I were you." Ororo Monroe's voice drifted through the now open doorway. As usual, she was hardly acknowledged by the girls; but she knew that they were listening. "He is rather tense tonight. St John had a meeting with Mr Lensherr earlier this evening and he has been sitting at the bar - annoying Logan - since it finished. It's quite entertaining…"

"Whoa, there 'Ro!" Tabby announced whilst jumping to her feet. Rogue was also affected by Ororo's news; but she chose a less obvious reaction. "Did you just say that the one and only St John; The Avenger is in our bar, right now?" Tabby pressed, her excitement evident as she gripped Monroe's shoulders.

"Yes…" Ororo smiled at the young woman's child-like behaviour; this was why she was here, braving the dangers of their inner-sanctum, to spread joy to them with news of their visitor. "He said he wanted to see you…"

"Oh-my-god!" Tabby and Amara squealed whilst sharing a gleeful look and rushing out of the door.

"Excellent. I hope Logan actually throws something this time!" Emma smirked and followed the two teenagers. Jean took a bemused Kitty by the arm and lead her after the others.

"Come on, this is something you won't want to miss."

Rogue was the last to leave; slowly standing and processing the information everyone else had overlooked. She turned to Ororo, who was clearly about to leave; 'Ro didn't look too upset - a little tired, perhaps, but not upset. Then again, it was unlikely that, if there was any news, it would have found it's way to her already.

"Do ya know what tha meetin' was about?" The question had clearly taken Ororo off guard; so if there was any new information, she clearly hadn't been exposed to it yet.

"No, sorry…" Rogue smiled encouragingly, so as not to worry the older woman, and waved over her shoulder before making her way towards the bar and the rest of her dysfunctional family. "Goodnight Rogue."

* * *

They entered the club to find a harassed looking Logan towering over a flame haired youth, who was grinning manically at him from the other side of the bar. The young man appeared to be unperturbed by the gruff barman's deadly expression; his crystal blue eyes that danced with laughter and excitement showed that, perhaps, he rather enjoyed the stress he was inducing.

"I'm not going to pay for it. Look mate; it ain't my fault if you can't make the right cocktail. I asked for a Tequila Sunrise."

"This _is_ a Tequila Sunrise!" Logan slammed he glass, he was holding, onto the bar.

"No it isn't, mate…" The boy with the Australian accent let his smirk grow, as he pushed the drink back towards Logan - it appeared that the argument had been going on for sometime. "I wanted; Tequila, Cointreau and Lime…"

"Well then, that would make it a Margarita!" Logan was yelling in exasperation. "A Tequila Sunrise is; white Tequila, orange juice and Grenadine! If you want a Margarita, I will make you a Margarita!"

"But I want a Tequila Sunrise…"

"You have a Tequila Sunrise!"

"But it's not made with Tequila Cointreau and Lime…"

"Because that would make it a Margarita not a Tequila Sunrise!" Logan looked as though he was seriously considering smashing the glass in the youth's laughing face.

"Why don't ya just make him what he asks for, Logan?" Rogue suggested from the doorway - where she and the other girls had been watching the show, put on by the two men who were oblivious to their presence.

"I will, but only when he admits that he is asking for the wrong drink!" Logan's attention had not swayed from the boy in front of him. The youth, however, now had his attentions firmly turned to their audience. He took a bow and then opened his arms towards the girls.

"Sheilas!"

"Monkey!" Tabby ran forwards - knocking over a chair in the process - and launched herself into his awaiting arms. He squeezed her back ad then opened one of his arms so that he could scoop Amara - who had followed Tabby with same much enthusiasm - under it.

"It's good to see you girls, its been too long!" Amara and Tabby disentangled themselves from the beaming boy, so that Jean could kiss him on the cheek.

"You are the one that hasn't visited in two months!" Tabby administered a friendly punch to her long-absent friend's shoulder. Emma - who had thrown a victorious grin at the still trembling Logan whilst hugging the boy - and Rogue had now joined the group. At Tabby's statement, the mischievous grin had left the youths features and he let out a sigh before taking both of Rogue's hands in welcome.

"Sorry about that Sheila…I didn't think it was a good time to be visiting." He looked closely into Rogue's eyes and then turned to look at Kitty. "I figured you girls had too much to deal with at the moment…"

"Oh, yeah! Monkey, this is Katherine Pryde. Kitty, this is St John!" Tabby - who was now snuggled up to St John's side, with his arm slung over her shoulder - motioned between the two as way of introduction.

"Nice to meet ya Sheila! If Tabs is this excited about you I'm sure you'll be fun to have around." St John took Kitty's hand in greeting before turning back to Rogue.

"Ya really shouldn't have stayed away so long, Sugar. Us gals can cope just fine; its not as though tha world is goin' ta end 'cos we have ta look after a new gal." Kitty thought that Rogue's answer was vaguely hypocritical, considering their reactions to herself as the 'new girl.'

"Yeah, well…I knew you were likely to be stressed out and wouldn't want my handsome face around, distracting all of your workers!" Logan tutted audibly from somewhere behind them. After a pause, St John became serious again. "And…well…I figured you would need your space…" He looked over at Rogue again "Creed has a big ego and an even bigger mouth…"

"Been braggin', has he?" Rogue's voice didn't even waver on the question. Her brief time of weakness was officially over; she could now go back to hating the bastard.

"You know what he's like Sheila…"

"Why are ya here St John?" The abruptness in Rogue's change topic, confused the usually undisturbable.

"Um, well…I just thought I'd stop by and say hi…I can go if you want…"

"Ah didn't mean that, sugar…Ah wanted to know what ya meetin' with Eric was about. He mentioned that ya were lookin' into Charles 'incident', Ah wondered if ya had any leads?"

"Ahh…Sorry Sheila; I was just here for a job debriefing." Rogue sat down and put her head in her hands. "I'm looking but there just ain't no information to find."

"No leads?" Jean joined the conversation furrowing her brow and taking the seat next to Rogue.

"Oh no, we have plenty of leads." St John smiled and joined Rogue and Jean at the table, leaning across it towards them. "In fact, we know who did it…"

"Nathanial Essex." Rogue added.

"Exactly. Problem is; we have no bloody evidence! And you know the rules; we can't take revenge without proof. Unfortunately, everyone that works for Essex knows that it is more than their life's worth, to brag about anything as high-profile as the hit on Xavier." St John sighed in exasperation of the dead-end his job had taken. Then he smiled up at Tabby, Amara, Emma and Kitty, motioning for them to join the group; to anyone that knew him, it was obvious that St John was changing the topic of conversation because the current one was becoming too serious for his liking.

* * *

"So, St John, what exactly is, like, your job here?" Kitty enquired, once the conversation had turned to topics she could actually follow.

"Well, I technically don't work _here_, Sheila. I work freelance, but I have a contract with Lensherr." He smiled at Kitty's bemused expression. "I'm a professional arsonist Sheila."

"Professional arse is more like it…" Logan's gruff mumble came from behind the bar.

"Play nicely Logan…" Emma drawled at him, whilst hanging over St John - who had his arms draped across the back of her and Tabby's chairs - for effect.

"When did arson, like, become a profession?" Kitty asked.

"Since someone as skilled as me decided to charge for it Sheila." St John smirked over at Logan "They call me Saint John; The Avenger, and I have to say; I'm pretty famous…"

"And modest too…" Logan's rant was cut short by Rogue's warning glare.

"…Even the police have heard of my work, Sheila. I target the homes of scum, lowlifes and crooks. Lensherr hires me to go after people that owe him money; I torch their house as a first warning, then - if they still don't pay - the Boss sends Creed or Rasputin after them. Simple."

"But, if the police, like, know it's you; why don't you get caught?"

"'Cos Sheila, they don't know who they are looking for. There are very few people in this town that can actually put the name St John to a face - yourself included." St John gave a beaming smile, clearly proud of his achievements. Logan cleared his throat and set two pitchers and seven glasses down on the table.

"There you go; one Margarita and one Tequila Sunrise. Happy now?"

"Actually, I'd rather just have a beer." St John handed his glass back to Logan, who stared at him in amazement.

"_What?_" The question was no more than a hiss through Logan's teeth.

"Yeah, I'm not really a cocktail kind of guy…so I'll just have the beer thanks." Logan spun around and threw St John's superfluous glass to the floor. At which, Emma held her hand out to Tabby - who grudgingly handed over a folded 20.

* * *

"So, St John, ya'll never guess who Ah was talkin' ta last week." Rogue sat back at the table with another round of drinks in hand.

"Santa Claus?"

"Cute, but no. It was Wanda, Sugar."

"Really? How is she these days?"

"She said ya call her every night. Said that, once - when she refused ta answer - ya called seventeen times in a row!"

"What can I say? I'm in love, Sheila!"

"That's not love, Sugar; that practically boarders on stalking."

"Well if she would agree to go out with me, then I wouldn't have to follow her around, would I?" He said it as though it were the most obvious behaviour in the world.

"Ya'll are crazy."

"Love makes us crazy Sheila, love makes us crazy…"

"Ya'll are creepin' her out. Ya have seriously gotta stop this, Sugar. If not for her sake, then for your's; Eric ain't goin' ta like it when he finds out that ya are pervin' over his daughter."

"Wanda Maximoff is going to wake up one morning and realise that she is desperately in love with me…until then I just will have to make do with imagining her in the shower…" Kitty and Jean pulled disgusted faces as the other girls laughed along with the pyromaniac.

"I was under the impression that our meeting finished three hours ago St John. Would you kindly explain to me, what you are still doing in my club, after-hours?" Eric Lensherr's dangerously polite voice wove across the room.

"Sorry Boss, just catching up with the Sheilas…" Lensherr's eyes hardened "Well then…guess I'll be off…Night boss." St John collected their glasses and took them over to Logan.

"My office, now." Lensherr demanded of Rogue, who followed immediately; throwing a small wave to St John as she left.

"You'll visit us soon, right Monkey?" Tabby and the rest of the girls made their way over to the bar.

"Why do you, like, call him 'Monkey'?" Kitty enquired, her curiosity finally getting the better of her.

"'Cos he's short and hairy." Logan chimed in with a gruff smirk.

"You might wanna look in a mirror before you start making accusations like that, mate…" St John looked Logan up and down to emphasise his point and then quickly dodged the punch Logan threw his way. "Night Sheilas."

"It's a term of endearment Kit…" Amara clarified as they waved St John out of the door.

"Yeah, he's cute, funny and adorable." Tabby sighed "Just like a monkey in dungarees and rollerblades…"

* * *

"Since when do ya care whether we have visitors?" Rogue sat in her familiar seat in front of Eric Lensherr's desk. Her boss was visibly stressed, which made her uncomfortable; Eric never showed any type of emotion - except for infuriating politeness - unless he was too far gone to reign it in.

"You have work tomorrow. I would prefer it that, my girls - the best of the best - were not to tired to function adequately. I do not wish to lose money through your error, Rogue." Eric's eyes were dangerously dark.

"It's barely one o'clock; most nights, we don't turn in until three. We still manage to 'function adequately' then."

"It would do you good to remember your place, my dear. You may lead the girls here, but I am still your superior." The icy edge to his tone told Rogue that she needed to back-down.

"Ah'm sorry, _Sir_…" She added with false politeness.

"Good, now that that's settled, we have a few matters to discuss." Eric walked over to his cabinet and poured two, rather full, glasses of Scotch. He downed half of his own before handing Rogue hers. She took it cautiously; it was severely unlike Eric to offer a mere prostitute his personal supply. "Am I correct in assuming that Miss Braddock took all of her possessions with her, when she…_left_?" Rogue almost choked on her drink.

"_Betsy_?" She clarified that she had heard correct; nobody mentioned them - Lorna and Betsy - especially not Eric.

"Yes, my dear; Elizabeth Braddock - I'm sure you remember her, she used to work here…" If Rogue was not so shocked, she would have been more bothered about Eric's condescending tone.

"Yes, Betsy took everythin' with her…" Rogue was cut off by Eric's smile; it made her suspicious.

"So, the room is empty - is that correct?"

"Yes; tha only people that go in there are tha maids, when they clean once a month…What's goin' on Eric?"

"I am simply making sure that the room is ready for your new housemate to move-in." Eric levelled his gaze with Rogue's, waiting for the reaction he knew was coming.

"Eric…" Her voice was steady and her body was tense. The Rogue was desperately trying to control her emotions; she could not afford to infuriate Eric further. "Ya promised me that there would be no more after Kitty. We - Ah _cannot_ handle it…"

"Well I suggest you try! I believe that I have already mentioned this once tonight; but I am your boss! You will do as I say, when I say it! I am becoming quite tired of you constantly questioning my actions; I suggest you re-think your attitude." By the time Eric had finished, Rogue was shaking. Her body was tense with anger and hatred; she could not stand being controlled or dominated - and there was no way she could win in this situation.

"When does she arrived?" Eric smirked triumphantly; he had won.

"Poitr is picking him up now; they should be arriving in about five minutes." Rogue threw a petulant look towards the older man in front of her, but then balked as his phrasing finally dawned on her.

"Did ya just say _him_?"

* * *

The girls had almost finished tidying the bar, when the club door slammed open. Logan - who had been in the stock room, behind the bar, retrieving his coat - ran back towards the girls, who had all frozen at the sight of their intruder.

"Poitr? Is that you?" Jean - who was closest to the door - squinted at the darkened entrance, just making out the bulky outline of a tense giant.

"Da, Jean. It is me..." Poitr sounded tired and slightly guarded.

"What do you want at this time of night?" Logan demanded of the considerably taller man. As Poitr moved into the light, he visibly cringed; refusing to meet their eyes.

"It is not a good thing for why I am here…" Whenever Poitr was worried he struggled with his English, preferring to slip into Russian as a defence mechanism. "I am sorry…"

"What's the matter, Petey?" Tabby used Poitr's nickname to try and soothe the obviously anxious Russian. At that moment Emma caught sight of another body in the doorway - this one considerably smaller and leaner than Poitr. But she could not identify him.

"You got something you want to tell us, Rasputin?" Emma cautioned; throwing a wary glance at the person, still shadowed, in the doorway.

"It is difficult…" Poitr, too, gave the stranger a fleeting look before returning his attentions to the six other occupants of the room; all five girls were standing with their arms crossed looking expectant. "I was not supposed to have to tell you this - Rogue should be the one to…but, she is clearly not here…"

"Get on with it Tin-man." Logan gruffly cautioned. (A/N: In this story, Poitr's 'Tin-man' nickname refers to his job as muscle-for-hire but with a heart of gold - which is unusual - comparing him to the Tin-man in 'The Wizard of OZ' - who wanted a heart.)

"I have been to the airport…" Poitr Rasputin sighed; _Mr Lensherr should have briefed Rogue by now. She should be the one to tell them - then again; maybe it is better that she is not here. I do not wish to face her anger of the situation._ "I went to pick up your new housemate…I am so sorry."

"Say that again, bub; 'cos you did not just say what I thought you said." Logan's eyes turned hard as he glared at the gentle Russian. The stranger in the shadows decided that his introduction was taking too long; it was time to face the music.

"Bonjour, mes amis…"

* * *

"No Eric! No Fuckin' way!" Rogue was on her feet; blood and adrenaline pulsing through her body too fast.

"I would advise that you sit down, my dear." Eric's eyes narrowed "This matter is not up for discussion; you will do as I say!"

"No Eric!" Lensherr's eyes flashed dangerously; warning Rogue that she was stepping out of her place. "Ah mean it! There is no way Ah am lettin' a male live with us!"

"That is not your decision to make, my dear; the premises is mine to do with as I wish, as you well know."

"Ah will not let this happen, Eric. Ah work myself in ta the ground, Ah risk my life and Ah put myself through hell - all ta keep those gals safe. Ah refuse ta just hand them over ta some guy on a plate! Ah will not put them at risk!" In a split second, the room changed; suddenly Lensherr was fuming. He launched himself across the table, grabbing Rogue's arm in a vice-like grip and pulling her towards him so that their faces were practically touching. She allowed her eyes to go wide and her body to tense; trying to pull away from the raging man.

"You will do as I tell you! Is that understood?! You will not argue; you will not complain! It would do you good to remember that I can make your life a misery; you belong to me - all of you do! You will do as you are told! Do you understand me?!" He shook Rogue until she nodded her head in agreement. Satisfied that he had won, Eric pushed Rogue back into her seat and released her arm. The Rogue looked away from the older man; unable to meet his eyes as she fought the traitorous tears that tried to escape hers eyes. Instead, she focussed on massaging her arm; it would definitely bruise. When she had finally gained control over herself, she looked up to find Eric Lensherr staring at her intently.

"Ah don't understand why he has to stay here…" Her voice was small, weak and embarrassing.

"The boy has many talents and some particularly impressive contacts that will benefit my business considerably." Eric levelled his gaze with Rogue's; clearly warning her against anymore emotional displays. "He has nowhere to live; so I am offering him shelter in exchange for his services."

"But why does he have ta stay with us? Why not make him share an apartment with Logan or Poitr?"

"Because, my dear, it has come to my attention that I no longer hold the loyalty of many of my employees."

"We are all loyal ta ya, Eric, ya know that."

"Really? Then why did it take me two months to discover that you were living here without paying your way? Why was it a client, not an employee, that told me of Miss Danes betraying a clients secret to the police? How was it that Miss Braddock successfully managed to partake in a relationship, with a client's son, for four months before I was told? And let us not forget that when Miss Braddock and Mr Worthington decided to run away together, my 'loyal' employees actually aided them - rather than turning them over to me, as they should have done."

"But…" Eric raised a had to halt Rogue's protest.

"I do not underestimate the power you have over people, Rogue; it is a great gift that enables you to be the best at what you do. Unfortunately, for me, that same gift has also forged relationships between you and my other employees." Eric smiled "I am not naive, my dear; I realise that Logan, Mr Summers and Mr Rasputin hold more loyalty towards you and your girls, than they do for me. Unfortunately, that is becoming a problem."

"So ya are brinin' in a new guy ta keep an eye on us?" Eric smirked when realisation dawned on Rogue.

"For awhile now, I have relied on Victor Creed to 'keep an eye on' my Wild Roses." Rogue suppressed a shiver as she thought of Creed. "However, of late, Mr Creed has become an unwelcome guest in your home; which makes it difficult for him to gain any information.."

"He was always unwelcome…" Rogue's icy mutter cut through the conversation, but was ignored by Eric.

"…So, I believe it is time to try a different approach. I think that you and the girls will get along particularly well with the young man; he has an exceedingly charming personality…"

* * *

"No Way!" The five girls screeched in unison.

"Rogue won't like this Petey." Tabby shook her head.

"I am sorry, but there is nothing I can do. Mr Lensherr was adamant that he is to stay here." Poitr Rasputin was desperate for the angry women to understand him. They were becoming rather confrontational and his companion was no help what-so-ever; just leaning against the wall and smirking as though he were enjoying the show.

"Well you can go and tell Lensherr where he can stick his 'new employee'! He is not staying here!" Emma was becoming particularly aggressive.

"Leave Poitr alone, Emma. It's not, like, his fault." Kitty felt obliged to stick up for the man who spent the last month looking after her and helping her settle in to life at The Rose Garden.

"What the hell is Lensherr playing at?! Rogue is barely keeping it together as it is! Any more 'surprises' and she'll go into meltdown!" Logan growled, switching his attention between the Russian and the cocky -looking new-comer.

"I do not know what to say…I am so sorry…" Poitr was cut off by a southern voice, as two people entered the club from backstage.

"It's alright Poitr, don't ya worry yaself, Sugar." Rogue smiled gently to reassure him and then turned to her girls. "He stays; end of discussion." They all nodded and threw apologetic glances at Mr Lensherr, before turning to the bar to get drinks.

"Now that, that is all settled…" Lensherr turned towards his newest employee "I must apologise; the delayed arrival of your flight has caused a few problems for me. Perhaps we can reschedule your welcome meeting for tomorrow morning? I'm sure the girls will look after you until then."

"Ce n'est pas un problème. See you tomorrow Boss." The stranger inclined his head and pushed off of the wall, making his way towards his newly-acquired housemates.

"Mr Rasputin, perhaps you will be so kind as to drive me home?" Eric Lensherr did not wait for an answer; he walked straight out of the door, knowing that Poitr would follow. The Russian waved towards the girls before following his boss - desperate to escape the tense atmosphere in the club.

* * *

He was enjoying the atmosphere; he had always enjoyed winding other people up - and these guys were too easy. The blonde bitch was worried that he was going to try and take advantage of them. _Ha!_ Was it even possible to take advantage of a hooker? Besides, he had never had trouble getting women; if anything, these girls should be paying him. But, regardless; He had no interest in these girls. Of course they were pretty - plain gorgeous in some cases - but he had been raise to respect women, even if they did not respect themselves.

They were doing their best to ignore him; which suited him fine. It gave him more time to study them and figure them out. Currently, his attentions were focussed on the woman that had entered the room with his new boss; by the way the others talked to and acted around her, it was clear she was their superior - _hierarchy amongst hookers, what will they think of next?_ She had her back to him, but he could tell she was stunning; long shapely legs wrapped in dark jeans - that were slung low on her round and well proportioned hips, a small waist - emphasised by her cropped black cardigan that covered a hunter-green vest top - and long wavy, chocolate locks - whose silk practically begged to be touched. Her outfit was, by far, the most modest of all the girls - with, perhaps, the exception of the red-head who was clad in a black velour tracksuit - yet it managed to make her more appealing. Finally, she was turning - giving him his first glimpse of her face.

He froze. His heart stopped. His breath stuck. Images of that face, only much younger, flooded his mind. In his head he saw a river bank; felt the terror as he saw a boy, he hated, push a girl, he cared for, into the water and into the path of a moving boat. He felt the cold water prickle his body as he dove in after her; felt the adrenaline rush that enabled him to pull her free - her hair, that had tangled in the boats propeller, yanking from her head - and onto the bank. He felt the tears that had prickled his eyes as he saw the great bloody gashes that marred her forehead; he felt the guilt that had consumed him as he watched her hair grow back - only to be turned pure white with the shock of the incident.

He knew only one person with white streaked hair that framed dazzling emerald eyes.

"Anna?" His whispered question was heartfelt enough to gain the attention of everyone in the room. Those pools of green were finally focused on him - sharp with alarm - and he knew it was true.

"You want something punk?" Logan's gruff question was ignored by the young man; who moved closer to The Rogue.

"Anna, is that y'?" His eyes were so focussed on Rogue that there was no longer any doubt of who he was talking to.

"Ah think ya are mistaking me for someone else…" Rogue's eyes turned steely as she gave a warning glare to the boy in front of her.

"Anna, chere, its Remy; Remy Labeau…"

"Ah honestly don't know what ya'll are talkin' about. Now, if ya excuse me, Ah have work ta do." As she turned to leave - annoyingly aware that all eyes were watching them - Remy lightly clutched her arm; almost desperately.

"I know it's y' chere! I recognise y' hair.; who else has white streaked hair like that?"

"Um…Ah dunno; Anyone that can read tha instructions on tha back of a packet of hair dye?" Rogue let her sarcasm hide her panic.

"Y' hair is natural…" Inside Rogue was cringing - they were going to find out, she could see it in their eyes; she had always insisted that her hair was natural. "And I have never met anyone with eyes like y'. I know it's y' chere." Rogue pulled her arm out his grip and turned her back on everyone. "Please, Anna! I have been looking for y' for five years; please talk to me!" Then she knew Logan could see that Remy was telling the truth; five years - exactly how long she had been working at the club.

"Just leave it Remy!" She spun around and glared into his eyes; those eyes - those brown eyes that darkened when he was angry or sad and that almost sparkled with red when he was infuriated. Those eyes she knew so well, she could tell his thoughts from them - eyes that she hoped she would never see again.

"I knew it was y' chere!" He pulled her into a hug; his beaming smile showed that he was too ecstatic with relief to notice that she did not return it. "What are y' doing here?" The laughter in his voice proved that he had not even considered the answer his question might prompt.

"Ah work here…" Rogue's voice was hard, as though she was defying him to give the reaction she knew was coming. Remy's arms dropped immediately; freeing her from his embrace and enabling her to cross her arms in a protective stance.

"Oh…" Remy appeared almost confused. "How long have y' been here?"

"Five years…" Her voice was barely a whisper, yet it was enough to change Remy's whole demeanour. His body tensed and his eyes became hard. His newly adopted aggressive stance caused Logan to make his way towards the pair.

"Five years? Five years?!" Remy's voice was getting steadily louder "We have been looking for y' for five years. _I_ have been looking for y' for five years! An' y' were here all along! Working as a…as a…" In his rage, Remy appeared to be struggling with the correct terminology.

"A what Remy? A prostitute? A hooker? A whore? Pick a name that's good for ya sugar, 'cos they're all tha same!" Rogue was in full defensive mode; who was he to come into her home - after all this time - and treat her like dirt?

"Hey, hey, hey! Why don't you kids calm down, yeah?" Logan thought it best to intervene before one of them completely lost it.

"Why?" Remy ignored Logan and growled his question in Rogue's direction.

"It's easy money." She raised her eyebrows and gave Remy a seductive look. He moved to grab Rogue by the shoulders; Logan was there immediately, placing a hand on Remy's chest and stepping between the two.

"No! I don't care why y' are working here; I want to know why y' left! Why y' never called! Why y' left us all worrying! Why y' let us desperately look for y' for five years! Why y' never put us out of our misery! WHY DID YOU LET US THINK Y' WERE DEAD!" Remy was hysterically screaming by the time he got to the end of his tirade. Rogue just stared at him; his face flushed, his breathing heavy and his eyes gleaming a blood red. Her lack of reaction only infuriated him further. "ANSWER ME!" He demanded and launched himself towards her, ready to attack. The Rogue braced herself for the impact; ready to fight back. But Logan had Remy contained in a restraining hold - with his arms pulled behind his back - before he had even taken a step.

"If I were you; I'd cool it, bub." Logan hissed in Remy's ear. The boy stopped struggling immediately and looked at Rogue with heart-broken eyes.

"Why did y' run away, chere?" His voice was hoarse with confined tears and the stress of the situation. Rogue walked right up to him, placed her face so close that their noses were practically touching and snarled her answer.

"Why do ya even care?"

* * *

A/N: So there it is folks! Pryo and Gambit have officially entered the game! So, next chapter we hear how Rogue and Remy know each other and fear not; there will be plenty more tension! Until next time folks, keep reviewing! Please!


	8. Home is Where the Hurt is

A/N: So here you have it, another chapter! It's a little shorter than the others...Sorry!

Disclaimer: If I actually owned the characters, do you seriously think that I would share Remy with the rest of you?

* * *

_**Home is Where the Hurt is, Darling - Follow Your Heart**_

"_Spread Your Wings" By Robbie Williams  
_

Rogue and Remy had been separated; Rogue was studying the girls accounting information and Remy was drinking beers and glaring at her, from the next table across. The girls were confused as to what to do; Rogue was clearly busy and would, therefore, not appreciate them disturbing her - yet, if they joined Remy, it would appear as though they were taking sides. So, instead, they leaned against the bar and watched the pair intently. However, this did not last for long - soon Kitty was moving towards the tense male, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"So you, like, know Rogue…?" Kitty asked tentatively as she approached Remy's table.

"Who?" The Cajun looked up to see Kitty glance at over at The Rogue. "Oh, y' mean _Anna_…" Rogue's shoulders tensed as Remy emphasised her name. "Yeah, I know her…"

"_I used to live 'round here  
I was the boy with the flash clothes  
She was the girl with the acid stare…"_

"How?" The brisk question came from Emma. Remy turned to see the other girls, cautiously making they way towards him, and smiled; _So they want to know about their Anna…interesting._ Tabitha Smith was lagging behind the group, sending questioning glances at Rogue. Tabby was just as curious as the rest of the girls, but she couldn't help but feel as though they were betraying Rogue; she hadn't told them about her past for a reason and it felt almost disrespectful to go against her wishes and ask a complete stranger - who Rogue obviously had a problem with - to reveal all of her secrets. On the other hand, Rogue had not made a move to stop them; perhaps she was fine with the situation? Finally, Tabby reached her seat at Remy's table - throwing one last glance at Rogue, who was punching numbers into a calculator; she would listen until Rogue voiced any objections.

"…_I saw her at The Place  
You know she knows you know…"  
_

"Ma famille lives in New Orleans, but seeings as there were some… _problems_ with another family in the area - mon père decided it would be better if ma tante took the kids away from all of the _bad influences_. So I spent mon childhood in a lil' town in Mississippi." He smiled fondly "Dat's where I met Anna."

"…_How she shakes  
When she jacks her body  
To the sounds of Orange Juice Jones  
and Jocelyn Brown…"  
_

"Her family was well know in the town; good lil' Christian couple who adopted some poor abandoned kid. They were the perfect family; the Father was the 'bread-winner', while the mother stayed at home to look after their lil' girl." Remy stared intently at the back of Rogue's head for a second, before smiling sadly and looking away. "Her mother died when she was five, it turned the family upside-down. Her father had to give-up work so that he could stay at home and look after Anna…poor guy had to take odd jobs around town - painting, building-work, repair work - just so that there was some money coming in."

"Why didn't he claim benefits; it's so easy for single parents to get financial support..." Amara looked over at Rogue; she did not look like the product of a wholesome Christian up-bringing - but then again, neither did she.

"The Social would have just taken the kid away from him" Jean sneered "That's how it works; if it was the father that died, then they might have let the mother keep her - but not the other way around. That is what happened with my Grandpa - they wouldn't let him have me unless he could support me himself."

"These days, no one cares if you are a good parent or not; it's all about statistics..." Logan growled from behind the bar.

"He was a real good guy, working his ass off to keep them off the streets; yet he still had time to raise a kid, go to church and to volunteer to do work he knew he wasn't going to get paid for, for people less-fortunate than him. Tante Mattie knew them through church - she always was a sucker for a charity-case." He shook his head and let out a fond chuckle "Tante fell in love with lil' Anna; she was so polite and well-behaved - so unlike us Labeau boys. But I didn't really have anything to do with Anna until she was eight. There was this huge storm that pretty much ruined their house - Tante made them stay with us while the repairs were being done, she even insisted on helping pay for them." Another fond smile turned slightly sour as Remy remembered his own situation at that point in time.

"…_Oh, spread your wings  
Before they fall apart  
Home is where the hurt is, darlin'  
Follow your heart…"_

"It was Christmas and I was eleven. Mon père had promised we could come home for the holidays, but backed out at the last minute. Mon frère, Henri, didn't care too much - he was thirteen and far too interested in his girlfriend, Mercy, to care that _Jean-Luc_ didn't want to see his children." Remy sighed "I decided to hide out in my room and sulk…but Anna found me. She refused to go away until I talked to her; I ended up spending the entire holiday with her - we became best-friends."

"Aww! That's, like, so cute!" Kitty chirped, causing Remy to send her a charming smile.

"Yeah, well; Tante said that we were almost inseparable…even when Anna and her père moved back home and I went up to high school - we still spent most of our free time together." Remy looked around, slightly uncomfortable, and cleared his throat. "But, I guess, by the time Anna became a Junior - we'd just…grown apart…"

"Oh, come on, Remy!" Rogue's sharp accent cut through everyone's revere. None of them had realised she was even listening to the conversation, let alone that she had turned around to join them. "If ya goin' ta tell tha story, ya might as well tell it right." She raised her eyebrows and waited for Remy to argue; his only response to throw a mocking bow in her direction. Rogue took that as her cue and turned towards the other girls. "We didn't _'grow apart'_…Remy's friends decided they didn't like me - Ah wasn't 'cool' enough for them _apparently."_

"Come on, chere! Y' didn't exactly help yourself." Remy turned to the others for support. "She used to wear these big tatty clothes, she never used to talk to anyone and would just hide in a corner reading - it was weird!"

"It never bothered ya before…"

"I'd never thought about y' like that before…"

"Ya never thought of me as a human bein' before? Gotta tell ya Remy, that kinda hurts…"Rogue mockingly clutched her heart, her sarcastic tone making Emma smirk.

"So, like, wait a second; Rogue was a _geek_?" Kitty asked incredulously.

"Yep." Remy smirked and downed the rest of his beer.

"That, like, makes me feel, so totally, better about myself!"

"Give me a break; Ah was eleven!" They were all looking at her "Ya know what; it doesn't even matter - Remy cut me out of his life, end of discussion! Why don't ya just get on with tha story, Cajun…" Remy looked down and started to pull at the label on his empty beer bottle, remembering how he had been at that age. All of the girls and the wild parties; he was pretty much a jerk to everyone, not just Anna. Thank god his family name practically allowed him to get away with anything and everything - otherwise he might have found himself very lonely. Only fourteen years old and already staying out all night- it's a wonder that Tante Mattie never gave up on him.

"Anna just fell off my radar; I carried on with my life and left her to get on with hers. I was too focussed on annoying mon père, to notice much of anything at that point…I tried everything; started cutting school, breaking curfew and even petty crime - but all that did was upset Tante. All Jean-Luc had to say was 'Boys will be boys' - I don't even think he would have noticed if it wasn't for Tante complaining all the time…"

"Stay on track Cajun, ya can look for sympathy later…" Rogue cut in.

"_Anyway_…" Remy stressed and threw Rogue an exasperated look. "When I was seventeen (A/N: Meaning Rogue was fourteen.), I started dating Belladonna Boudreaux - the daughter of mon père's enemy - but even that backfired; our parents decided that we were going to reunite the families..." he paused, his eyes clouding over.

"I remember that year so well…It was going to be Bella's first time at ma famille's annual ball - usually non-family members are invited from the age of sixteen, but seeings as Bella was a Boudreaux she could only attend whilst there was peace between our families. She was mad because Tante Mattie refused to help her prepare for the party - that was Tante's job y' see; to pretty and train all of the girls for their introduction. But that year, she just refused to help anyone…" Remy looked over at Rogue with awed eyes "That night changed my life, chere…"

"What happened?" Jean's question was merely a whisper; afraid that she would break the spell.

"…_So she walks into this dead end bar  
Sticks her hand bag on the chair  
So she walks into this dead end bar  
Puts hers hand bag on the chair…"_

"I was dancing with Bell, when the music suddenly stopped; there was just this piano and then the most beautiful voice I have ever heard…Y' looked stunning, chere; standing on that stage - y' looked like an angel."

"It was a bit of make-up and a figure huggin' dress, with a low neckline; get over it." Rogue sighed and took a large gulp of her drink.

"Y' were never the same after that; y' changed y' clothes, started wearing make-up - over-night y' went from being the school wierdo, to the girl every guy wanted." Remy looked at the other girls, with a proud smile. "But she never changed; she still went to church, still helped her father and still preferred to sit by herself and read - rather than socialising." Then his smile turned sour. "Until _he_ came along…"

"…_And she weights the words we shared  
When we were fifteen and still cared,"_

"A lil' jealous of Cody, Remy?" Rogue smirked.

"Why would I be jealous of him, chere?"

"'Cos Ah turned ya down and went out with Cody instead…" All of the girls' eyes went wide and Jean actually gasped and verbally pounced Remy.

"You asked Rogue out?!" The red-head giggled along with Kitty and Amara, whilst Tabby turned her attentions to Rogue.

"And you turned _him_ down?!" She asked incredulously.

"I already had Bella, why would I care if he had y'?" Remy continued to talk to Rogue, ignoring the interruption.

"Speakin' of 'Her Royal Highness'; Ah can't help but notice the absence of a ring…" Rogue gestured to his left hand.

"He wasn't y' type…" Remy refused to hange the subject.

"He was more my type than ya were…"

"He was a _Jock_!"

"He was a decent guy…"

"Ha! Yeah right!" Remy's snort of disbelief caused Rogue to narrow her eyes.

"Ya wanna explain that, Cajun?"

"Does anyone understand what's going on?" Amara whispered to her bemused friends.

"Anna started dating this Jock in my year…" Remy clarified for the girls, before staring at the table - his eyes turning hard and his voice dropped to a hard whisper. "What happened, chere?"

"What are ya on about, Swamp-Rat?"

"Senior Prom…" (A/N: Just to clarify - at this point Remy would have been eighteen, making Rogue fifteen.)

"Leave it, Remy!" Rogue cautioned with a growl.

"…_Cos she feels I'm the scar from the wound  
That time can't heal…"_

"What's this about Senior Prom?" Emma pushed worried that Rogue would finish the conversation, before they got to the good bit.

"Cody took Rogue to our Senior Prom…" He paused to look into Rogue's eyes. "She never made it home…"

"She, like, stayed out all night?" Kitty asked with shock.

"Non; she ran away…" Remy then turned back to Rogue. "Do y' have any idea what y' did!? Y' broke y' père's heart!"

"Ah don't see how that is your problem…"

"It's my problem when he is sobbing in ma Tante's arms, at six in the morning, because the only thing good in his life never came home! Do y' have any idea what y' put him through? What y' put Tante Mattie through? What y' put _me_ through?!" Remy had got to his feet; Rogue mirroring his action. "Y' left no note; no explanation! We had no idea what had happened! We thought y' were taken by some pervert! WE THOUGHT Y' WERE DEAD!" Remy was screaming hysterically by this point.

With the table no longer between them, Logan feared that Remy would try to attack Rogue again - so he placed a restraining hand on the younger man's shoulder. Remy violently shrugged Logan away and turned to lean his hands against the table - leaning forward to get his breathing under control. After a minute of complete silence, he suddenly pushed away from the table and threw his head back; it was then that they noticed the moisture sparkling on his eyelashes.

"I have been looking for y' for five years - hoping and praying that y' weren't dead… and then I find out that y' have been working here, as a prostitute, for the ENTIRE TIME! Well guess what, Chere; I actually would have preferred it if y' _were_ dead…" Suddenly Logan had Remy's arms pulled behind his back - pushing the boy's head against the table.

"I think its time you went to bed, bub." Logan hissed in Remy's ear, briefly easing his grip on the boy, providing Remy with the oppotunity to straighten-up and shove Logan away.

"That's a good idea, actually…The current company is making me sick…" He left the room, whilst pretending to dust off his shrt and throwing Rogue a disgusted look as he passed.

"…_Oh, spread your wings  
Before they fall apart  
Home is where the hurt is, darlin'  
Follow your heart…"_

* * *

"How well do you know him kid?" Logan had sent the rest of the girls to bed, so that he was left alone with Rogue; who was currently busying herself with tidying the - already clear - bar.

"…_And I said  
Don't let your dreams fall out of your head  
Stick it to the man instead…"_

"Well enough…"

"Do you need me to stay tonight, just in case he tries anything?"

"…_Don't fool your heart lying about  
the feelings that you had back then…"  
_

"No Logan. Remy ain't that kinda guy." Rogue smiled and made eye contact, for the first time since Remy's outburst "Ah might not like him…but Ah can trust him."

"If your sure, kid." Logan shrugged and went to collect his coat and turn out the lights. "Night kid."

* * *

"…_Did you try to change your life  
Did you ever try to change your life  
You repeat and repeat  
and repeat and repeat  
Now what's up with that?…"  
_

"Did he do something?" The low Cajun whisper came from the shadows of the rec-room doorway; making Rogue jump as she locked the door to their living quarters.

""What are ya on about?" She kept her back to him, talking in harsh whispers.

"Did he hurt y'?"

"Ah swear ta God, Remy; ya better not be talkin' about Cody!" She yurned slowly.

"Did. He. Hurt. You?!" Remy pressed, moving into the light.

"He was a good guy, Remy…"

"…_Now she loves somebody else  
In flash clothes…"_

"I know y' slept with him!" Remy cut her off. "The night of the Prom; y' went back to his car and y' slept with him…" Rogue tensed.

"How did ya find out about that?" Rogue's voice came out dangerously low as she advanced towards the Cajun.

"That's not the point…"

"…_She was the girl with the acid stare  
And now she'd paid to have one of those…"_

"How. Do. You. Know. About. That?!" Rogue pushed Remy in the chest to emphasise every word, until he was fully backed against the wall.

"When y' didn't come home, I tracked him down and asked him a few questions…" He glared down at the angry Southerner.

"How badly did ya hurt him?" Rogue stepped back, so that she could comfortably look Remy in the eye.

"I roughed him up a lil'" The Cajun shrugged with a smirk.

"How badly, Remy?!" Rogue's voice quivered slightly.

"Put it this way; he didn't wake up for three days…" Rogue's eyes brimmed with moisture as she pulled her arm back and slapped Remy across the face. By the time he had snapped his head back to look at her, the tears were gone and her eyes were as hard as before.

"…_And she weighs the word she says  
And she knows you exist…"  
_

"Why?!" She demanded.

"Because y' weren't that type of girl!" It was Remy's turn to advance. "Y' always used to say that y' shouldn't have sex before marriage! Y' used to be so ashamed of those girls that slept with their high-school boyfriends before they were even legal! I know that there is no way in hell that y' would have given it up, to some juiced-up Jock in the back of his car!" Rogue's face was so frozen with outrage, that it took her a second to make her mouth co-operate with her head.

"Ah do not believe ya! Can ya not see me, Remy? Do ya not understand what Ah do for a living?!"

"Y' did not get here on y' own! He made y' like this…He did something!" Rogue slapped Remy again.

"When are ya goin' ta listen ta me?! Cody was a GOOD GUY!"

"…_Now she feels  
I'm the scar from the wound  
that time can't heal…"_

"This isn't y' chere…I know y'…" Remy's voice was low and broken.

"No, Remy; this has always been me…Ya just chose not ta see it…" She shook her head, before heading to bed; leaving Remy alone in the dark.

"…_Spread your wings  
Before they fall apart  
Home is where the hurt is, darlin'  
Follow your heart"_

* * *

A/N: There you have it guys! Another chapter for you…the tension is building. Reviews please!


	9. Desperado

A/N: So…not the longest I have made you wait; but it still took a while - Sorry! But here is a whole chapter devoted entirely to Remy! Hopefully that makes up for it lol!

(I feel I should also mention that I will not always name the original artist for the songs that I use in this fic. I will name the artist who's version best fits the situation of the song or the mood of the chapter. Enjoy!)

Disclaimer: Alright, you caught me! I actually do own the X-Men, this is all just an elaborate conspiracy made up to trick you! - Oh, and did I mention I was a compulsive liar?

* * *

_**Desperado**_

"…_Don't you draw the queen of diamonds boy  
She'll beat you if she's able.  
You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet…"_

"_**Desperado" By Journey South  
**_

He was up and out before sunrise; she had made it perfectly clear that he wasn't exactly welcome - and he wasn't in the mood for a fight. He needed to think; needed to cool-off. Her words replayed in his head until they lost all resemblance of meaning; _"__No, Remy; this has always been me__…__Ya just chose not ta see it__…" _- his Anna, the prostitute. No; he couldn't accept it - he wouldn't accept it.

He spent most of the morning in the local park; just sitting on a bench, staring into space and desperately trying not to remember the iciness that lay in her emerald-eyes. At some-point he received a call requesting his presence, at an overly-priced restaurant, for his first meeting with Mr Lensherr; which he had been tempted to turn down. How had it gotten to this? Far away from his home, his family, his New Orleans. Thrust into the face of a demon masquerading as his sweet, young, innocent friend. He should leave; go far away and start a new life - away from this underworld full of dark deeds and illegal practices. But, unfortunately, that was not an option.

When it came to the Fight or Flight Response, Remy's nature leant unconditionally towards Fight; a personality trait that had gotten him into trouble many of times. Remy just couldn't run away from his problems, his natural urge was to hit back and face them. So he graciously accepted the invitation and spent his remaining hours attempting to control himself. This would not beat him; they would not beat him; she would not beat him.

* * *

"Ah, Mr Lebeau! I hope that you have not been waiting long?" The powerful old man announced as he was seated at Remy's table.

"Ce n'est pas un problème, Monsieur Lensherr. Remy knows that y' have a demanding schedule." He smiled and stood to shake his new boss's hand in greeting.

"Ah, how wonderful; an accommodating young man! Always a helpful quality within an employee, I find." Thay sat and opened their menus out of customary obligation; though neither of them glanced at the pages. There were formal matters that needed to be discussed before they moved on to social part of this meeting. "Now, I am a great one for pleasantries; however, I feel that perhaps there are a few issues that we must discuss before proceeding…"

"Oui Monsieur, of course."

"I trust that your accommodation is to your liking…and that your reception was _acceptable_?" Eric Lensherr allowed a small smile to twist his features. The boy in front of him was certainly capable of handling himself; handsome, strong and confident. However, the Wild Roses were famed for their tempers and stubbornness. "I do not expect that the girls were particularly welcoming…However, I do hope that they were not too impolite."

"Everything was bon, Remy assures y'"

"Excellent! I obviously would have preferred to give the girls a little time to adjust to the prospect of the situation. But, alas; I am a busy man…" The older man's face became more serious as he took a sip of his complimentary water. "Now, Mr Lebeau; I fear that it is time for me to _'lay down the ground rules' _- as they say." Remy adjusted his face to match that of his employer's. "I understand that it will be _tempting_ for you, as a healthy and attractive young man, staying in a house full of appealing young women. However I strongly discourage you from engaging in _any _form of relationship with _any _of my girls. They are only to be touched by men that pay for the privilege to do so; if I was to discover that you were taking advantage of my - and their - hospitality…Well, lets just say that you would face severe punishment. As I understand from your family history, I believe you have an idea as to what sort of retribution I would be forced to give out…"

"Trust Remy, Monsieur; he has no interest in _that_ sort of thing." Remy's thoughts turned briefly to Anna and he shuddered at the thought. "Remy be on his best behaviour, he swear." Eric smiled, almost proudly, as he misread Remy's disgust as fear and chuckled lightly.

"Am I to take it that Miss Rogue has already warned you off?…She is an exquisite creature, is she not?... An employee of mine refers to her as 'pure fire and brimstone'. Although St John does appear to have a penchant for the dramatic; I fear he may be correct in this particular assumption" His eyes glazed over with admiration as Eric thought of his favourite Rose. "She is the most fascinating woman. She can charm a man simply by walking into the room; one look into her eyes and any red-blooded male will find himself wrapped, quite securely, around her finger. If she wished to, I am positive, she would succeed in convincing many an unsuspecting victim that the sky was, in fact, green and the grass blue. It would seem that she was born for her vocation…" The mist in his eyes was replaced with amusement, as Lensherr once again turned his attention to his young companion. "But I have been told that she can be a most dangerous adversary. Our Rogue is ruthlessly protective of _'her girls'_; I would not advise doing anything to provoke her, Mr Lebeau. A woman who can both manipulate and charm within the same breath, is capable of destroying the strongest of men."

"She certainly seems to have a certain _talent_…" Remy sneered, causing Mr Lensherr to laugh heartily.

"Oh, my dear boy! You do not do her justice!…Oh well; I am sure that you shall discover all of this for yourself, over time." The older man looked over his shoulder and beckoned the hostess towards them. "But now we must eat or we shall run out of time. Order anything you desire; lunch is on me." He turned towards the expectant waitress "The usual please, Marla."

"The ravioli, s'il vous plaît" Remy added, with a wink that caused the young woman to blush before stumbling away.

"I am impressed Mr Lebeau. Most men, when offered a lunch paid for by their employer, will either choose the least expensive item - so as not to appear greedy - or the most expensive - to take advantage of the opportunity. You, however chose something of both taste and of a respectful price."

"Like you said; Remy's family prepared him for this life…"

* * *

Their meeting ended at four o'clock - and Remy felt obligated to accept his employer's offer of a lift back to the club; so by 5pm, the Cajun found himself exiting the black chauffeured limousine and making his way towards his room. He was not looking forward to facing his new house-mates - especially after last nights outburst. However, he had to face the music at some-point; and there was no time like the present.

Unfortunately, he did not even make it as far as their living-quarters before he was ambushed by a rather stern looking Rogue. Her smell reached him first; a spicy mixture of scents that surrounded her, proceeding her by almost a metre - signifying that she was almost certainly wearing too much perfume. Her perfect figure, tonight, was emphasised by an emerald-silk and black-lace negligee; that amplified her cleavage and left entirely too much of her long, shapely legs exposed. Her heavily made-up face seemed to shine with annoyance - which Remy mirrored, upon noticing her appearance - as she flicked her perfectly set curls off of her shoulder, with a delicate hand. With her four-inch black stiletto sandals, Rogue was still a few inches shorter than Remy - but this did nothing to diminish her obviously threatening stance.

"Where do ya think ya'll are goin'?" Her tone was hard and demanding - how could he even begin compare her to the soft angel he once knew?

"Remy be goin' to his room…"

"No ya ain't."

"And why's dat?"

"'Cos tha club opens in an hour and my gals are backstage preparin' for tha show."

"Dat doesn't affect Remy. Now if y' would excuse me, I'd like to go lay down…" He made to move past her but was halted by her restraining hand on his shoulder. As soon as the familiar touch - her skin, always slightly cooler than most, on his skin, which was always slightly warmer - invaded his senses; Remy flinched away as if burnt.

"No men are allowed back stage durin' workin' hours. Either go sit in tha bar or go somewhere else."

"Remy lives here; the usual rules don't apply to him!" Remy was beginning to get frustrated with her behaviour.

"Tha rules apply ta _everyone_! So move it." The Rogue's eyes flashed in warning, as she recognised the threat of a confrontation.

"Dis is bullshit, Chere! Why don't y' say what dis is really about; 'stead of hidin' behind y' rules and regulations!"

"And what exactly do ya think this is about Cajun?"

"Y' and me, Chere." She scoffed at his self-centred opinion. "Face it Chere; dis is about me gettin' under y' feet. Dis is about me knowin' who y' are. Y' can't hide behind some aggressive façade with me; 'cos I know y' Chere…Y' just tryin' to assert y' authority by controlin' moi - and Remy's not goin' t' play your lil' game. So, if y' would excuse me…" He made to move past her again; this time her restraining hand pushed him away, before he could flinch.

"Ya really think Ah'm that self-centred? Ah'm not goin' ta pretend that ya'll bein' here isn't awkward, Remy; but ta be perfectly honest, it doesn't bother me that much. Ya'll are the one with tha problem!" She closed her eyes in frustration and let out a calming sigh. "Look Remy; ya need ta accept that Ah am who Ah am now. Ah respect who ya are. Ah might not like ya bein' here, but Ah still trust ya; Ah always have... Can ya do tha same for me?"

"Remy can't trust someone he don't know. Especially if dat person is goin' out of their way to be difficult…Remy'll show y' respect when y' start treatin' him fairly. I live here too chere and I have as much right as any of the others to come and go as I please."

"Ya're right Remy; Ah shouldn't order ya about. So how about Ah ask ya nicely; Will ya please do as Ah say?"

"Non; Remy's tired. He just wants to go to his room; I'm not in the mood to watch barely legal girls strip tonight." The bitter edge to his tone made her eyes narrow.

"Will ya stop bein' arrogant for five minutes, and just listen ta me?!" Rogue was suddenly livid and the, apparently, abrupt change made Remy wary. "Ah am responsible for this club and those girls! It is my job ta keep our home a male-free zone. Ah will not put my gals in danger!" Remy looked affronted.

"Y' think Remy is a threat to dem?! Are y' seriously sayin' dat y' think Remy would hurt dem?!"

"No Remy, Ah'm not. Ah know that ya'll are a good guy; but the rest of them out there ain't as good-mannered as ya…"

"Den keep dem out! Why are y' layin' into Remy?!"

"If they see ya back here, it will be a free-for-all!" Her tone softened slightly. "Remy, can't ya see that they're just waitin' for an excuse? If they find out that ya'll are back here they'll say that Ah'm makin' exceptions; choosin' favourites. They'll come bargin' back here, demandin' tha world - and Ah won't be able ta stop 'em!"

"Dats crap, Chere, and y' know it! They're just customers; y' deal wit dem all the time. Remy's sure that all y' would have to do is bat y' eyes and they'd be jumpin' through hoops!" His words were full of exasperation and anger; by this time, both their voices had climbed to a dangerous level. "Just do Remy a favour and stop feedin' him dis shit; go get y' power trip somewhere else!"

"For Christ sake!" Rogue threw her arms in the air, in frustrated surrender. "Ya know what? Fine, come on through; be my guest! Ah'll fend off the rowdy customers; maybe give 'em a few freebees ta keep 'em happy!…But what are ya goin' ta do when the others come knockin'?! Huh, Remy?! 'Cos if Ah'm dealin' with the customers, who's goin' ta keep an eye on our _'superiors'_? Tha ones that don't have ta pay; tha ones that can do as they damn well please?!…Are ya goin' ta be tha one that looks out for my gals?! Are ya goin ta hold 'em when their crying - heartbroken?! Are ya goin' ta deal with 'em when ya find 'em bleedin' and broken on tha floor? Are ya…"

"Um, Rogue…?" A tentative squeak broke through the air, as Kitty peaked her head in to the corridor. "Is, like, everything okay?" Rogue cut her words short at the interruption. She closed her eyes, for a second, to calm herself down - and when she re-opened them all of the fire, that burned within the depths of her emeralds, was extinguished; leaving a weary indifference in it's place.

"Sure it is, Kit…go back ta the changing' room, Ah'll be there in a sec…" Rogue's voice was stiff as she turned to face the young girl. Kitty just shook her head.

"We, like, heard you yelling…" She tentatively eyed Remy - red faced and livid. "Maybe you should, like, come back with me…?"

Kitty's sudden appearance had caused an internal struggle to wage inside Remy. Rogue's words had, had little effect on him - if truth be told. He was too irate. As far as he was concerned; this was her problem. She chose to be here - he wasn't about to start feeling sorry for her; wasn't about to fall for the 'life is unfair for a poor little hooker'-routine. When he looked at The Rogue, he saw red. He kept seeing flashes of his beautiful angel, ten years old and carefree; innocent green eyes and pure white stripes. She did not even compare to the perverted version, that stood before him.

But when Kitty had appeared, the image had changed. Looking into Kitty's wide, childlike eyes, he could no-longer see his Anna. It was the same vision - her running through his garden, smile blazing - but her eyes were different. Those exquisite orbs, that he held so dear, had now morphed into the cold emeralds of their older self. His Anna - his angelic Anna - no longer looked innocent; making her appear more like The Rogue than he had thought possible. His breath caught for a second.

"Sure, Sugar…we'll go back together." Rogue softly reassured Kitty, before turning her, now pleading, eyes back to the Cajun. "Please, Remy? Do it for them, not me…Please…?"

Remy Lebeau turned to leave, immediately. He couldn't be there anymore; couldn't be near her anymore. He had to leave before The Rogue corrupted everything good that he had to cling to.

* * *

"Bourbon." Remy placed his money on the bar, as Logan began to object. "Tonight Remy is a paying customer, mon ami. So y' are pourin' for as long as I'm payin'." Logan just sighed, took the money and fetched Remy his drink.

Remy hardly noticed as the room came to life around him. Time meant nothing to him; he was too focussed on the eyes that he had lost. The infection, of her icy stare, had now spread to all of his most treasured memories of Anna. He could not find a single image that showed her with that innocently youthful gleam, that had helped him survive the last few years.

All around him, the room was buzzing; now filled with rich men, strong alcohol and thumping music. The dancing had started some time ago, but Remy Lebeau had not noticed - too consumed by his drink and his memories. All around him, barely dressed women swayed and bumped; but he did not even acknowledge them. He was completely oblivious.

That is, until the music changed. Since he had been sitting there, the song must have switched at least twenty times, yet he did not notice. So why was his attention suddenly diverted back to reality? The song seemed no different from the others; the same too heavy beat, the same thrumming melody. But it was different somehow. Remy's attention was immediately drawn towards the centre stage; the blonde-bitch was just descending into the audience, her absence replaced with - _mon dieu._

Anna floated across the stage and began her slow torture. Below her, her audience of hungry men tensed with excitement. She glided sinuously through the moves; through the dance. Twisting it into a sensual act that was practically indecent, for such a public venue. They loved it. Everyone of them standing to attention; lapping up the show. The desperate little puppets didn't have a chance against their skilled master.

Remy could not turn away from the hypnotically erotic display. Her sinuous body flowing and swaying. Her dangerously long legs strutting; her hips twisting; her arms stroking. The temperature rose and for the second time, that night, Remy's breath caught. His heart was beating at twice it's normal rate, his hands were shaking - yet he could not look away.

All too soon, the music changed and the Angel began her descent towards hell. Suddenly, every punter had a wad off bills in their clutches; all holding them for her clear view. Her pace was slow, sultry and purposeful; as The Rogue made her way towards her first victim. As she reached the table, her hands were in her hair and her hips were beginning to move to the new rhythm; she was presenting herself - and the client heartily approved with what he saw. Leaning back into his chair - taking the time to throw a smug grin at his nearest companions - he beckoned the Angel towards him. Of course, she followed.

As he watched his Anna climb onto the lap of a suited demon, bile hit the back of Remy's throat and he was gone. Before he realised it, he was outside; his back leaning against the wall of hell itself - his face in his hands. He was shaking. His world was spinning. _Anger_ - he told himself - _it was just anger._

* * *

The bile was gone, leaving a bitter taste to soil his mouth, yet no physical evidence to justify it. He wanted to cry; he wanted to yell; scream; hit something; break something; kill something - someone. The lights, the smoke, the music; all kept swirling through his mind - wrapped around sinful legs, immoral hips and a wicked body. Traitorous - betraying him, betraying herself, betraying Anna. How could his little ray of hope have turned into that seductive serpent that had sinned in front of his very eyes?

"You should not smoke; it causes cancer." The abrupt statement was provided by the dominating Russian - who had somehow managed to sneak-up on Remy. _Must be loosing my touch…fuck, this place is screwing with my head…__**she**__ is screwing with my head._ When had he started the cigarette? He couldn't remember; the last few moments had passed in a blur of sick and sex.

"We all gotta die sometime."

"That is true, Comrade; that is true…" The Russian smiled. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Knock y'self out." Remy took a long drag and leant his head against the wall; calming his breathing - Lebeau's did not show weakness.

"Poitr Rasputin." The giant man proffered his menacing hand, which Remy ignored.

"I know; we met yesterday."

"That was in different circumstances. Then I greeted you as a fellow employee; now I wish to greet you as an…acquaintance."

"What's the difference?"

"They are." Poitr gestured towards the club and Remy smirked in understanding.

"If y' here to warn Remy off; y' can save y' breath; he's already been told to keep his distance. Y' don't have to worry, I'm not interested in dem." The Russian chuckled.

"I did not think you would be, Comrade. I know that you are not a threat to them - the girls have told me about you and Rogue…" Remy bristled and Poitr decided it was best not to broach that particular subject. "I am only concerned about your job here."

"Y' concerned 'bout lil' old Remy? Dats sweet, but Remy can handle himself…" His light smile darkened, almost imperceptibly. "Remy is used to this type of work - he grew up in this kind of world. La famille business is less than respectable." The Cajun allowed a harsh chortle to escape his lips.

"You misunderstand me, Comrade. I shall be more blatant; I know that you are living here so that you may…_spy_ on them"

"So y' here to tell Remy that he should keep their secrets - save dem from the big bad boss?"

"No, I am not here to tell you how to do your job. I simply wish to ask a favour of you, Comrade." Remy rose his eyebrows expectantly. "I ask that you get to know the girls first..."

"So that Remy forms an attachment to dem; so that he can lie to his boss and risk his own life, to keep them safe?" Remy chuckled "Y' clearly don't know Remy."

"They are good girls, Mr Labeau. They stick to the rules because they know what will happen if they don't. But sometimes, they have to bend the rules a little; which is something that Mr Lensherr does not understand…" The Russian looked grave for a moment. "I just want you to understand the situation before you inform of them; they do not break the rules lightly, Comrade, but sometimes it is unavoidable." The Cajun studied his companion for a moment.

"Remy don't understand y'…"

"I apologise, my English can be a little confusing sometimes. Perhaps I should…"

"Non, that's not what I meant - I know what y' askin' Remy to do... Its just that; workin' with mon famille, Remy has met hundreds of men like y'. Hired muscle; doin' all the dirty-work for powerful men in suits. Most of dem are sociopaths - helps if y' don't feel anythin' when y' smashin' some guys face in - some are even psychopaths that actually enjoy what they do. But Remy's never met one like y' before; hired muscle with a heart of gold - that's not something y' see everyday."

"You barely know me, Comrade. What makes you think that I am so different from these sociopaths and psychopaths?"

"Y' smart…"

"How do you know that?" The Russian smirked, obviously enjoying their banter.

"Y' read poetry when y' sittin' in y' limo."

"I get bored when I am on duty."

"But y' read _poetry_ - most men would go for a magazine or a newspaper." The Russian chuckled.

"I happen to enjoy the imagery used by that particular poet…"

"_Dat_ is not something most men of y' job description would say. They don't need 'imagery' when they get their kicks from whackin' some poor sods knees in with a baseball bat." Remy noted that Poitr appeared uncomfortable with his mention of violence.

"Men who read poetry are not necessarily smart."

"But y' are; y' fluent in two languages."

"So are you, Comrade."

"And y' compassionate; y' care a lot 'bout those girls... Y' are too kind for this job." The Russian's smile dropped from his face, as he sighed in defeat.

"You are right, Remy; I am not this type of man…Would you like to here my story, Comrade?" Remy just looked up expectantly, in answer, "I came from Russia to study; I wanted to learn about the world - to experience more than my small community could offer. But after I left, my Mother fell ill. I needed money to pay for her medical care, but I did not have much." Poitr looked ashamed as he turned his eyes away from Remy. "I should have gone back home; but I was too selfish. I knew that I would never save enough money to come back to America again - so I borrowed the money and sent it back home instead…I was not familiar with the ways of this life; I did not realise that people would come after me if I could not repay them.

"But Mr Lensherr offered me a second chance; he told me that I had _'potential'_. I had always been strong and well built - I had just never had a use for those sorts of qualities…So I paid off my debt by collecting other debts from those who were not as fortunate as me." The giant sighed. "After I had repaid Mr Lensherr, he offered me a full time job…and I accepted. It was too good an opportunity; he was offering to pay for my sister's education, on top of a very generous salary…"

"Dats what men like that do; they use y' family - y' loved ones, y' weaknesses - as bait. Y' should have gotten out why y' could."

"I hate myself for what I do, Remy; but I do not regret my decision. My mother could not work because of her treatments; my sister would have had to leave school and take a job. This way Illyana can go to college and get the best education possible, courtesy of Mr Lensherr - and I send half of my wages to them, so that my mother may have a restful recovery without having to worry about money."

"It's still a lot to give up; y' don't get to retire from this business. Y' either end up dead or in prison. Y' riskin' y' life for them, mon ami."

"I am aware of the risks. I have given up my life for them; I can no longer go home because of the shame of what I have done. I visit for birthdays and Christmas, of course, but I can never really return. I find it hard to look Illyana in the eye, because of the things I do…But it is worth it to see them happy. It is a concept I believe you understand, Comrade; you, like me, would give up your life for your family." Remy scoffed at this.

"What would make y' think that?"

"You have mentioned them twice in this conversation - and you spoke of them last night. I have the impression that you are close to them."

"I was…" Remy took another sharp drag of his cigarette - realising that it was running out far too quickly - as a hard glaze crept over his eyes. "But they made their decisions and Remy made his. They made it clear that he's not welcome anymore…"

"But you obviously still care for them, Comrade. You might not agree with them, but you still wish to see them happy; otherwise you would not be here…" Poitr looked at his watch, recognising the dead-end their conversation had met. "I must leave you Remy; my shift starts in a minute and I have some poetry that I must get back to." The gentle giant smiled warmly at his Cajun companion, before climbing into the drivers seat of his limousine - which was parked a few feet away - to wait for his client.

* * *

Remy sighed and took the last drag of his smoke, before crushing it under his heel. When he reached into his pocket, to retrieve it's replacement, his hand brushed against his phone. He paused for a moment, contemplating Poitr's words; that damn Russian had given him too much to think about. Pulling out another cigarette and lighting it, Remy thought about his options. Before he realised what he was doing, the phone was in his hand and he was dialling a number he hadn't called in three months.

"_Bonjour." _The brisk feminine voice that answered, pulled a smile onto Remy's face; she was stressed. He chuckled slightly as he released the smoke from his lungs, thinking about the last time he saw her - her hormones had only just started to act up before he had left; now that she was six months gone, he was willing to bet that her mood swings were becoming unbearable.

"Bonjour…" Her reaction to his voice was instantaneous.

"_Mon Dieu! Remy?! Is dat y'?"_

"Oui, Mercy; it's Remy…" She squealed in excitement, all her agitation forgotten as she began to call through the house.

"_Henri! Tante! Come quick…HENRI!…" _Remy cursed himself.

"NON! Mercy, shush! Stop!" Her announcement was cut short when she picked up on his tone. "Please, Chere…don't involve Henri or Tante."

"_But Remy…" _She complained _"They'll want to know dat y' called. They've been goin' crazy!"_

"I know Chere; just, please can we keep this between us for the moment? Remy ain't ready to talk to dem yet…"

"_But…" _Her whined complaint was cut short as a door banged open in the background.

"_Child? What is it?"_ Remy closed his eyes as he heard the distant voice of Tante Mattie; his surrogate mother. His heart ached to talk to her, yet his mind prayed for Mercy to keep her mouth shut.

"_Nothing Tante, it was just a spider - it frightened me…"_

"_A spider? That's why y' were yellin' blue murder? I thought something was wrong." _Tante sounded unconvinced _"Where is it?"_

"_On the bottom of my shoe…I stamped on it…It was an overreaction, Tante; I'm sorry I frightened y'."_ Mercy's was speaking too rapidly, Remy fet sure that his Tante would see through her lie.

"_Well, no harm done; just try not to get too worked up, child- we don't want y' goin' into premature labour. Rest now, child." _Remy heard the door shut, signifying that Tante Mattie had left the room; he then heard it open again as Mercy stuck her head out to make sure she was out of earshot. Remy found it interesting that Tante had been the first to come to Mercy's aid; it was usually Henri - especially since she had gotten pregnant. He could have been on the other side of the house, yet if she needed him he would have been by her side before anyone else - even if they were only three steps away from her. So what was stopping him now?

"_Y' still there Remy?"_

"Oui, Remy's here. Thank y' for that Chere."

"_Y' better not make a habit of this secrecy shit, Remy! Y' know I hate lyin' to Tante."_ Even though her mood had swung back to agitation; her voice still carried a happy note as she basked in the joy of hearing his voice.

"Remy won't make a habit of it, he promise."

"_Damn, it's good to hear y' voice!"_

"Dats what all the filles say…" They both chuckled at his characteristic response. "How y' been, chere? How's the bébé?"

"She's _fine; more than fine, actually…"_ Remy noticed the emphasis his sister-in-law placed on the word 'she'. He knew that they didn't know the sex of the baby - it was family tradition to leave it as a surprise - yet Mercy had gone out of her way to specify a gender. It was common knowledge that Henri wanted a little boy - a male heir to the head of the family - and, if truth be told, Mercy agreed with him. She had too much experience of what little girls got up to - being one herself - and she had no desire to go through what she had put her own parents through. Yet, whenever she was cross with Henri she would insist that they were having a girl, out of spite._ "This baby is growin' too fast, Remy, I swear to God! I'm six months pregnant and I already look full term! I'm so fat, I won't be able to walk through doors soon. It's horrible!"_

"Trust y' to be worryin' 'bout y' appearance; I'm sure Henri doesn't mind."

"_Ha! Like I give a damn what he thinks!"_

"Y' two had a fight, Chere?"

"_Of course we have! He's an insensitive prick; what did y' expect?"_

"What did he do this time?" He couldn't help but role his eyes at the predictable situation. Apparently life in The Guild of Theives had carried on without him, just as normal.

"_He told me I was fat! Can y' believe it? I thought husbands were supposed to compliment their wives, not insult them."_

"Explain."

"_I asked him if I looked pregnant, in my dress - and he said 'Yes'!" _Remy chuckled; Mercy was amusing when she started acting like a petulant teenager. He did have to sigh at his brother's behaviour, though. Henri had never had much tact when it came to women - Remy was the Lebeau that was gifted in that particular area.

"Remy thinks y' are bein' a lil' oversensitive, Chere. I'm sure he didn't mean it like dat. Just give him the 'cold shoulder' for a few weeks; he'll probably buy y' a new dress to make it up to y'."

"_I _have _been mad at him for weeks - that's the problem; he's never around enough to realise it!" _Mercy's tone now carried a serious note, that told Remy the situation went further than her usual game of 'how to torment your husband'.

"What's wrong, fille?"

"_He spends all his time in that damn office! I thought that once the treaty was in place, he'd spend less time on 'official guild business' and more time with his wife! I swear to God, I don't even think this child will be able to recognise his father…"_ Remy picked up on her reference to the son she, supposedly, wished was a girl - but did not mention it. Her voice was full of tears and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, and comfort her like he used to. _"Oh God, Remy; I wish y' were here…"_

"Remy wishes he were there too, Chere. Come on now; calm down - y' don't wanna go into premature labour. Tante would hunt me down if dat happened!" He heard her give a slight sob and felt his heart break. "Remy's sorry Henri is bein' a prat. He's sorry dat it is his fault dat Henri is bein' a prat…"

"_He misses y' so much, Remy…He blames himself for what happened; he's tryin' to put everythin' right with the __Boudreaux's __so that y' can come back home…"_

"We both know dat ain't goin' to happen; once they're out for blood, there's no stoppin' 'em…" There was a long pause; neither of them wanting to continue discussing the painful topic of Remy's current situation, within the guilds.

"_Where are y' Remy?" _Her voice was quiet with apprehension.

"Remy can't tell y' dat, Chere…y' know it's too dangerous…"

"_I just want to know that y' okay, Rems…"_

"I'm survivin'…"

"_Please just tell me where y' are…"_ She was pleading with him and he could hear the sobs that were waiting to escape her throat, again. It was killing him to hide from her; out of everyone he knew, Mercy was his rock and he was hers. She would come running to him for support, and he would do the same to her. They shared a hatred for all things guild related - and because of this, they worked through their problems together, so that they didn't upset anybody else. They were like brother and sister; he even knew things about her, that even her husband did not. It was heartbreaking to see her going through this alone.

"I'm sorry, but I can't risk dat…" She was crying now. Her heart-wrenching heaves pulling at his resolve; but he could not give-in. She was pregnant, with the sole heir to the family and guild - and therefore a prime target for their enemies. He would not put her in anymore danger.

"_I would never - could never - sell you out to the Assassins! Y' know dat I would rather die than turn traitor against my own family! How dare y'…"_

"Mercy! Remy could never think dat of y'! I want to tell y' where I am; I want to be there for y' - I want y' to be here for me, but it's not possible. The treaty's fragile, Chere; it won't last! Soon the Assassin's will get bored of waitin' and come after the information themselves. They'll target y' - Bella always knew we were close. I won't risk y' life; I won't risk my lil' niece or nephew's life just because I needed ma belle-soeur to hold my hand!"

"_This whole thing is shit, Rems…It's so messed up!" _Remy sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Remy'd say dat was an understatement…" Their nervous laughter broke the tension enough for Mercy to quiet her sobs with a shuddering breath.

"_Well if y' won't tell me where y' are; will y' at least tell me why y' called?"_

"Does a man need a reason to call such a belle fille?"

"_I know y' Remy; clean breaks and no messy goodbyes. I didn't expect to ever hear from y' again…why the sudden call?"_

"Remy's been thinkin', a lot lately…I guess I just remembered what it was like to be left waitin'. To be left wonderin' what had happened; wonderin' if they were even still alive…I didn't want to put y' through that." He heard her sigh; immediately understanding who he was talking about.

"_Y' have to stop doin' this to y'self, Remy. What happened with Anna wasn't your fault…Y' have to come to terms with it; she's dead Remy…There's no other explanation. She would never have just run like that - she would never leave everyone worrying…She's dead Remy…"_

At that moment, the club door opened; revealing a short, stoutly man with a tall, graceful Angel attached to his arm. Poitr got out of the drivers seat and opened the back door, so that The Rogue and her customer could climb in. She was definitely working her client; just the right amount of swagger in her hips and large sultry eyes - beckoning him to follow. The man's little piggy eyes lit up as a gust of wind blew her trench-coat open slightly, revealing too much skin and a glimpse of the black-lace lingerie that she wore underneath. As soon as Poitr had shut their door, he was diving into the drivers seat and pulling out of the car park. Even though the windows were tinted, Remy - who's eyes had been trained to see clearly in darker situations - could make out the shapes of the passengers, as the limousine drove past. They were one great mass; limbs entangled on the back seat. He felt sick again - could they not even wait until they reached the hotel room? Of course not; Remy was sure that the customer was determined to get as much for his money as possible.

"_Remy? I didn't mean to upset y'…are y' okay?"_ Remy was brought out of his musings by a slightly panic-stricken Mercy. He sighed, taking one last puff, before crushing his cigarette under his heel.

"Non, Chere. Y' right; Anna is dead…Remy just has to come to terms with that…"

--

A/N: So there you have it folks! Aww, poor Remy; don't you just want to hug him? And don't worry; the situation between Remy and his family will be explained (although, if you know his history, you probably have a good idea already, lol!) as will everything with Rogue. Over the next few chapter, I hope to explore some of the other characters personalities and histories. Next chapter should provide a little comic-relief - although, it may be slightly shorter.

Hopefully I will update soon; but, as ever, reviews will help to prompt me into action!

x


	10. Out of Control

A/N: *looks shifty* Yeah…so…the last time I updated was awhile ago…sorry about that. But I'm back now! Apologies for the fact that this is pretty much a 'nothing' chapter, but it does have it's funny moments!

Oh! And just to clarify; I'm not that fond on the song mentioned in this chapter - I just find the lyrics amusing!

Disclaimer: *Coughs* Well you see the thing is…well I don't actually own these character…I'm kind of just doing a borrowing-type-thing *coughs*…

* * *

_**Out Of Control**_

"_You never met a bitch like me  
I was sitting in a bar, he put his hand a little far  
inside my skirt n' then I kicked him where it really hurt  
Don't fuck with me"_

"_**Out Of Control" By Ultraviolet Sound**_

It was 11am on Sunday morning and Remy Lebeau found himself with the sadistic urge to 'get-to-know' his new house-mates. After last night, something had clicked inside his head; if this was how she wanted to be, then he wasn't going to fight it. Of course, it went without saying, that he didn't approve of her current vocation - but she wasn't his Anna anymore. He wasn't going to allow her to drive him away, they could both co-exist without too much destruction. He felt as though some of the tension and depression had released it's hold on his body, leaving only a slight spike of anger whenever he saw her face.

He had spent the morning in the shadows, waiting for them to settle. By 11:40 they had finally migrated towards the bar area. The gruff bartender was ever-present, lugging boxes to and from the storage area, giving the impression that he was sorting a recent delivery - though Remy was sure that this was just an excuse to keep an eye on him. Remy took the table in front of the five girls - Jean, Amara, Kitty, Emma and Tabby - and set-up a game of solitaire.

Kitty, Amara and Jean were gossiping and making plans for the day, whilst Emma and Tabby, absentmindedly, adjusted their chairs so that they were facing the Cajun - rather than have their back to him. Remy seemed to be fairly engrossed by his game - but he was listening and watching, trying to develop a feel for his new companions. After all, Poitr Rasputin seemed to be a trustworthy man; if he said that these girls were good people, then Remy was inclined to believe him.

* * *

"Tabby, if I can see your underwear and I ain't paying for the privilege, then your skirts too short. Do us all a favour darling and put something decent on." Logan cut into their conversation whilst adding a new round of soft-drinks to their table.

"Or you could give me 20 bucks and I'll give you a proper view." The pixie smirked and took a sip through her straw. Their sniggering was disturbed by the slamming of the stage door, followed by the sound of Rogue's heels as she made her way towards the group. Remy couldn't help studying her - wearing a flowing shirt of emerald chiffon, under a short black tunic that reached to the middle of her thighs, legs encased in thick black tights and knee-high Victorian boots - as she marched purposefully, only hesitating for a moment at the sight of Remy before continuing.

"Ah found tha source of that smell in tha kitchen." She placed a carrier bag on the table and opened it for the girls to see. They immediately recoiled at the sight and smell of the contents. "Anyone recognise this?"

"Oh my God! I sooooo forgot about that" Tabby giggled whilst covering her nose.

"That would be the very expensive French cheese Mr Henshaw gave Tabby for her birthday…" Amara clarified for their boss.

"Jesus Christ Tabs, your birthday was seven months ago!" Emma piped up as she scooted her chair further away from the offending object.

"Yeah…Sorry about that guys. In all fairness, it already reeked when he gave it to me…"

"So ya thought ya would hide it at tha back of tha fridge and wait for it ta sort itself out?" Rogue crossed her arms and assumed her infamous 'I'm not impressed' stance.

"I'm really sorry, I just forgot about it!" Tabby grimaced.

"New house-rule; everyone clears their stuff out of tha fridge, at least once a week - and Ah mean _everyone_!"

"Yes Rogue." They all chorused, throwing glares at a rather sheepish Tabby. Rogue motioned Logan towards the bag and then followed him out the front door and towards the bins.

"I, like, so don't believe you Tabby! _Seven months_!" Kitty giggled at her friend - who took a bow.

"Did you see all that green stuff on it - gross, gross, gross!" Amara looked as though she was trying to shake the memory out of her head.

"I didn't think it was possible for cheese to liquefy - you know, without melting it…" Jean looked as though she was about to gag.

"You truly are disgusting." Emma glared at Tabby "I guess all those 'white-trash' stereotypes are true."

"Lets see who's laughing when you have to clear your stuff outta the fridge, Emma…"

At which point, a new topic of conversation was taken-up by the other three members of the group - as an attempt at diffusing the situation. Within minutes they were all laughing, the tension forgotten - so much so, in fact, that they all failed to notice the reappearance of the Rogue and Logan. However, Remy's attention was switched to the couple immediately; they were both frowning as though worrying about something. But then their whispering was cut short as their eyes' met Remy's and he suddenly had a good idea of their topic of discussion.

"Ah'll be out in a minute!" Rogue threw over her shoulder, to Logan, as she headed backstage. She stopped by the girls for a moment - studying them, before throwing a suspicious glance at Remy. "Shut ya legs, Tabby; anyone would think ya get paid for openin' 'em."

Tabby smirked and studied her appearance - tight, blue and pink, tie-dye t-shirt with an indecently short, denim, mini-skirt and knee-length blue socks - before turning her attention towards Remy; who was now considering her posture - facing him, with her legs opened slightly, too much to be considered lady-like. His eyes traced up the smooth, exposed skin of her thigh, towards the brief patch of electric-blue lace he could glimpse under her skirt. Remy had absolutely no doubt that this was for his benefit, so he turned his eyes to the blonde's and returned the grin she now held. Emma, too had noticed the exchange and muttered something that sounded an awful lot like _"shameless"_, before speaking up.

"I think she's advertising that _it_ is on sale…" Tabby now focussed on her companions - who all held the same eyebrows-raised 'what do you think you are doing'-look - and lowered her eyelids in a sultry-smirk.

"Fuck the sale; if he's offering, I'm bloody giving it away!"

"And that's why ya'll are skint Sugar. Keep 'em shut until ya got money in hand…then ya can wrap 'em round as many waists as ya like…" Rogue smiled before continuing her journey backstage.

"Aw…Hooker-humour - is there anythin' sweeter?" His dig was spoken so softly that Rogue was the only one to hear it. It wasn't enough for her to stop, but Remy took satisfaction in noticing how her features hardened at the sound of his voice. Sure they could co-exist, but no one said it was going to be easy.

"Hey Cajun, why don't you join us?" Tabby's invite was expected - Remy Lebeau was in.

* * *

Remy had spent the last two hours categorising his companions - Jean the caring and motherly type, Emma the bitchy and self-centred one, Kitty the sweet and innocent type, Amara the smart and sensible one and Tabby the free spirit. He had found them easy enough to get along with; by the end of their first conversation, most of them were quite obviously throwing themselves at him - something Remy was used to when it came to the opposite sex.

He had asked them about themselves - naturally only receiving vague answers - and they, in turn had enquired about him - his responses as ambiguous than their own. But this was something he had expected. He knew this life better than he knew himself and the first rule was to trust no one completely. So the conversation had inevitably drifted to more mundane topics and impersonalised anecdotes.

Unfortunately, their good-natured banter was cut short. Remy had heard the club's door open and assumed that Logan was taking another trip to the dustbin. However the girls' reaction suggested something far more sinister.

"_Fucking hell_." Tabby hissed under her breath, as they stood.

Remy looked-up to see a rather imposing man stood in the centre of the room, smirking and appearing completely at ease. The girls, on the other hand, had tensed-up and closed ranks. Remy studied their newly adopted formation - Tabby and Emma closest to the stranger, Jean in-between them, but slightly further back and Amara and Kitty, right at the back of the group and clutching hands - but he made no move to join them. This was their battle and he was not informed enough to get involved. So Remy Lebeau remained in his seat to watch the show.

"What, the bloody hell, do you want Creed?" Emma folded her arms in a petulant manner - Remy noted that Tabby, however, left her arms tensed by her side ready to ward off any attack.

"You might want to watch that tone of your's, Frost; it sounded very confrontational to me. That mouth might just get you in trouble one of these days…"

"Get out of here Creed! Your barred!" Logan came barrelling out of the stockroom, ready for a fight.

"You can't bar me, Hairball, I'm your manager!" Creed barely spared Logan a glance before returning his attention towards the girls - searching for a certain face in particular, but settling for another. Logan made a start towards the unwelcome visitor.

"Calm yaself Logan. Ya don't want ta lose ya head…or ya job…" The stern warning came from The Rogue, as she made her way to the head of the group - leaving only a foot between her and Victor Creed. "Ah was under tha impression that ya'll were supposed ta steer-clear for a while." She adopted the same tense defence that Tabby bore, as she faced the enemy.

"You've had a month. Mr Lensherr thinks that you're pushing your luck - I can't do my job properly if I ain't allowed in the club! He said you'll have to deal with it."

"Fine! But as far as Ah'm aware, ya'll don't work here on Sundays. So why exactly are ya hassling us?"

"Look here Princess; I came in all polite-like, it was your lot that started the hassling - not me! I'm just here to introduce myself to the new guy…" Creed then offered an overly friendly smile and his hand to Remy, who finally stood and accepted the invitation. "Victor Creed."

"Remy Lebeau, I look forward to workin' wit y'" Creed smiled and clapped Remy on the back.

"Me too kid, me too…"

"Well now that's over with, ya can go." Rogue interrupted, pushing Remy out of the way.

"Hey, hey! What's the rush?" Creed's attention was now fully devoted to the Angel in front of him, as he moved closer.

"Ya have no reason ta be here…"

"Look here Girly, I'm just trying to be a good citizen…"

"_That'll be the day_" Logan mumbled as he made his way to Rogue's side "Back-up a little Bub." Creed took a step to the side - away from Logan - which, conveniently took him closer to Rogue and reached into his pocket.

"I heard you were looking for this." He offered her the small disk with a sickening smile. Recognising it immediately - as the surveillance footage from Creed's last 'visit' - she snatched it from his grasp, as though he would burn her.

"It's not like ya ta give up this easy…Ya'll are losing ya touch Creed…"

"Hardly." He let out a small chuckle that sent shivers through her body, as her brain processed exactly how close he was - touching distance, grabbing distance. Close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. At that moment it was just them, wrapped tightly in a bubble of tense hatred that made her head spin, eveyone else slowly dissolved into the background - until there was only her eyes on him and his on her. "I made plenty of copies - three on disks, there is a copy on my laptop, I downloaded it to two separate hard-drives and…"

"Ah get it! Ya'll can watch it whenever ya want!" She needed him away from her, now. She couldn't care less about the other copies - perhaps they would keep him occupied for a while? "Now Ah think ya had better leave…" They stared at each other for a moment - Rogue tensing, ready to defend herself and the girls; Creed enjoying the reaction he was provoking and the fear that swam all around her. The rest of the world suddenly came crashing down around them, as the spell of their power-struggle was broken. With a victorious smirk, Victor Creed took a step back and threw a mocking wave at the small gathering before him.

"Bye everyone!" He announced. Then turned to Remy and clasped the younger man's hand. "It was good meeting you. See you at next months meeting." As he made to leave, Creed stopped by the door and turned to look The Rogue straight in the eye. "I'll be seeing you Girly, don't you worry."

* * *

Once the door was firmly shut, Logan reached for Rogue's shoulder. Breathing heavily and still focussed on the door, she shrugged away from him and stormed backstage.

"Kid?…" Logan's call was halted as Jean laid a comforting hand on his arm and shook her head.

The girls then busied themselves tidying their glasses and setting the table straight. They all felt the urge to vacate the contaminated area as fast as possible - it was almost as though the mere imprint of Creed's presence could spawn the most deadly of plagues. Remy - not understanding the sudden need for relocation, yet polite enough to help - offered his assistance, but was shunned and ignored. After the sixth time one of them purposefully banged into his side, Remy Lebeau had, had enough - _damn temperamental women_.

"Okay! Is someone goin' to tell Remy what he did, or does he have to guess!?" Tabby rounded on him immediately - Emma and Logan at her flanks, whilst the others moved past them and headed backstage in silence.

"A little word of advice, _Gumbo_: If you want to make friends around here, _don't _get too chummy with Victor Creed!" She spat the words before pushing past him and following the others.

* * *

"Come on Tabby, Remy's sorry…" Remy Lebeau perused the fiery blonde through their living quarters and up the stairs. "Please forgive him!"

Tabby was completely infuriated. _How dare Creed come here! How dare Remy be so nice to him!_ She was aware that her reaction was vaguely irrational - after all, she had only just started talking to the Cajun, it was not as though he owed them any loyalty. But she just…didn't know. _This guy is messing with my head!_

"Do you mind?" Tabby stopped outside the bathroom door, clearly signalling that Remy was not to follow her in there.

"Look Petite, will y' just hear Remy out…" The Cajun simpered, causing Tabby to sigh and fold her arms expectantly. "Remy was just tryin' to be polite. He is just startin' a new job, it wouldn't do him any good to offend one of his co-workers…"

"You offended me!" Her outburst caused Remy's lips to adopted a an, almost, child-like pout - making him look utterly adorable.

"Oui, but y' not as big and hairy as dat homme…" As her lips twitched, into a hint of a smile, he reached out and stroked a hand down her arm. "Remy's just tryin' not to make any enemies Petite…he didn't mean to offend y'. He didn't realise that y' had une aversion to the homme." Tabby blushed at his attention. "Is Remy forgiven?"

"Fine…I forgive you…" Her face was turned towards the floor, in an attempt to hide her flaming cheeks.

"Merci mon mignon." He gently grasped her chin and lifted her eyes to his, offering a beaming smile. "Has anyone ever told y' dat y' are incredibly beautiful…"

"Only every John with a wallet in his hands and a soldier in his pants…" The couple were shocked out of their trance as the sharp Southern tongue whipped through their moment. "He gets any closer and ya'll have ta start chargin' him for ya services, Tabs." Tabby lurched away from the Cajun and faced her mentor.

"It…it wasn't what it looked like, Rogue!"

"Good; Ah'd hate ta think Ah interrupted ya…" Rogues voice was cold with sarcasm and her eyes bore pure ice as they glared at Tabitha.

"Give it a rest, Anna. Leave the fille alone, she ain't done nothin'…" Remy's voice was just as hard as hers, yet Rogue did not turn her attention from the guilty blonde.

"Would ya leave us for a moment, Remy. Ah'd like a word with Tabitha - in private." Remy squared his shoulders, a thousand witty retorts waiting to burst from his lips, in confrontation.

"It's fine, Remy…Just a little girl-talk, that's all." Tabby assured the Cajun, before he could react. Remy hesitated, looking between the two women. Eventually, with the utmost reluctance, he made his way towards his bedroom, at the end of the corridor - whilst Rogue and Tabby watched him go.

"What tha hell do ya think ya'll are doin'?!" As soon as the door shut, Rogue rounded on the young woman.

"It was nothing, Rogue, honestly! It was just a bit of harmless flirting!" Tabby pleaded, wanting to yell and scream in her own defence; but she had to remain relatively calm. This wasn't Emma she was talking to - Rogue was her superior and needed to be shown some level of respect.

"Ah've seen a lot of gals ruined over 'harmless flirtin'' - Ah know ya'll are smarter than that, Tabs!"

"I am! I wouldn't have done anything - well nothing major anyway…He's a cute guy, I was just having some fun! Come on, Rogue; you're getting worked up over nothing. It doesn't usually bother you when we go out and I'm flirting with guys…"

"Remy Lebeau ain't just any guy! It'll start off as flirtin' and before ya know it ya'll be on ya back…"

"I know the rules, Rogue - I wouldn't do that!"

"Ya wouldn't have a choice…All it takes is a few smiles and compliments and ya'll be easier than a drunk cheerleader on prom night!" Rogue sighed, trying to control her anger - her prom night analogy probably wasn't the best choice when discussing their resident Cajun, considering his new-found fascination with her own. "Look Sugar; Remy Lebeau is a snake-charmer. He can make a woman fall in love with him, without even tryin'. He's left a long list of broken-hearts behind him - it ain't worth ya riskin' ya life over."

"I've worked here for over a year; it's safe to say that all of my romantic notions have been, well and truly, squashed." The tiny hint of bitterness, seemed out of place in Tabby's voice. "It's not like I'm going to go and fall for the guy…"

"Then what the hell were ya doin'?! Why were ya letting' him play ya?"

"I…I don't know…It was just nice, you know; to have someone working on me for a change! To have someone charming _me_. It's nice to just flirt for the sake of it - and not having to because it's my job…" It was Tabby's turn to sigh as Rogue's harsh glare softened - if she had been anyone else Anna would have reached out a comforting hand towards the young blonde, but The Rogue did not utilize such reassuring gestures.

"Ah'm just tryin' ta look after ya, Sugar…"

"A little trust would be nice…" Tabitha offered a sheepish smile.

"Ah thought Ah taught ya'll better than that; ya can't trust no one." Rogue smiled slightly, as they returned to their usual banter.

"You can trust us…" The sincerity in Tabby's voice brought the conversation to a serious ending, as Rogue's eyes turned towards the furthest door - and the Cajun who was, undoubtedly, listening behind it.

"It ain't ya'll Ah can't trust…"

"I'll leave you to it." Tabby gave a small smile and went to join the others, in the kitchen. Leaving Remy to take her place, within seconds.

"A lil' harsh, don't y' think?" Their eyes, once again, met in a clash of steely-glares.

"Ah'm just tryin' ta do my job and look after tha gals."

"Y' really think Remy's dat bad - lurin' poor innocent young filles into his bed? I'd say dat's a lil' hypocritical, comin' from y'…" She suddenly rounded on him; her demeanour changing in a split second.

"This is all a game ta ya, ain't it?! Playin' with gals hearts is just like a sport!... Ya really don't understand, do ya?" Rogue started advancing towards the Cajun until she was right in his face. "If ya seduce her - or any of them - then ya won't only break their hearts…They'll lose their lives!"

"Remy thinks y' bein' un peau over dramatic, Anna…"

"No! Ya listen ta me; it can't happen…Eric won't allow it! If he finds out that anyone of us is givin' out 'freebees'…" Her breathing had started to increases; why did he have to be so difficult? Why couldn't he see what it was like for them? "It's not a game Remy - He will _kill us_! Do ya understand me?!" She advanced even further, until their noses were almost touching. "He. Will. Kill. Us!"

They simply stared at each other - neither wanting to be the first to back down. Eventually, however, Remy took a step back and held up his hands in mocking surrender.

"Was just some harmless flirtin' - like the fille said…" With a small - yet completely infuriating - smirk playing on the Cajuns lips, he made his way past The Rogue and towards the rest of the group.

* * *

The Rogue sat in silence, with her head in her hands, as she stared at her current source of torment; the disk. Creed's present was placed on the coffee table in front of her - mocking her. She had originally taken it to her room for it's destruction, but it had felt wrong. She couldn't bare to have anything to do with that monster contaminating her sanctuary, so she had settled on the rec-room - as it was empty and relatively quiet, with all the club's other inhabitants currently having lunch in the kitchen.

Her relocation had occurred almost an hour ago, yet she was no closer to ridding herself of the retched object. Within the last 30minutes Rogue had reached for the tape, no less than, fifteen times - only to pull her hand back, each time, as forbidden memories fogged her mind. She could not bare to touch it - which seemed ridiculous to her, seeings as she had clutched it in her hands a little over an hour ago. Yet, once it had left her grasp, her fear of the object had began to grow.

"Knock, knock" She was pulled from her musings by a gruff voice, announcing Logan's appearance in the doorway. "I saved you some lunch - seeings as you didn't come and eat with the rest of us…" He entered the room and offered a tray to her.

"Ah wasn't hungry." She ignored his offerings, her eyes sternly remaining on the offensive disk.

"Well how 'bout you try some now…"

"Ah'm still not hungry."

"Come on Stripes, at least pretend - for my sake…" He sighed as her attention did not waver. He placed the tray on the side and took up the seat next to Rogue - switching his attention between her and the disk, in front of them. "Would have thought that would be long-gone by now."

"Ah can't do it Ah just…Ah can't…" It was The Rogue's turn to sigh, as she closed her eyes in frustration.

"Want me to do it for you, kid?"

"No - Ah need ta make sure it's gone…Ah have ta do this mahself…"

"If you're sure, Darlin'..." Logan was interrupted by a loud crash from the kitchen - which was soon followed by a round of giggles. "Oh for God's sake; what are they up to now?!" With that, the gruff male stormed towards the source of the disturbance.

"Tabby, get down from there before you hurt yourself!" Rogue smiled to herself as she heard Logan's distinctly dulcet tones. Shaking her head she made to reach for the disk, but quickly changed her mind - as the onslaught of bad memories threatened to take over. Instead she went for the tray, Logan had brought; but - she was telling the truth when she had said she wasn't hungry - the mere smell of the food was enough to bring bile to her throat. So, she settled on grabbing the remote. She hadn't watched television for a while - maybe it was time she caught up on all of the programmes the girls raved about.

* * *

Monday morning came all too soon for the inhabitants of The Rose Garden. By 2pm they were to be found in the bar; Kitty teaching Jean a few new moves on the stage, Remy was sat at a table with Tabby, Amara and Emma - whilst attempting to teach them poker - and Rogue and Logan were watching over them - with the pretence of looking over the rota for that night.

For what seemed like the hundredth time in recent weeks, their peace was disrupted by the opening of the club door. Three individuals entered this time, all of them male; the first being flanked by two considerably taller and muscle-clad sentinels. The girls reacted instinctively; rising to their feet, out of respect for their boss.

"A word please, Rogue." Eric Lensherr's voice announced his boredom at, what he felt, would be a tediously pointless visit. "Perhaps Mr Rasputin would like to stay here and introduce himself to Mr Lebeau? Victor, if you could follow me?" Inclining his head to the side, his tone was strong and his instructions were not to be challenged. With a shrug - for the sake of Emma's suspicious nature and Logan's tendency to worry excessively - The Rogue followed her two superiors.

* * *

For an older gentleman, Eric Lensherr could carry a swift pace, especially when he was agitated. As a result of this, the owner of The Roses Garden was seated in his office before his companions had even reached the corridor. As soon as the plaqued door swung to a close - effectively separating him from the pair in the waiting room - Rogue immediately felt a bristle of tension shudder through the room. As she brushed it off and made to enter the office, she found her arm clamped within a vice-like grip.

"Not so fast there, Missy…" Creed made to pull her closer, but The Rogue stood her ground. Her initial tremble of repulsion was sated by her knowledge of the disk - which currently lay in pieces, at the bottom of several bin-liners of trash. Taking a deep breath, the prostitute composed her face and turned towards her tormentor; allowing her hatred to fuel her actions.

"If ya mark me, ya'll be repayin' me the money Ah lose 'cos of it…" Creed's lips pulled back into a snarl as his hand wrapped tighter around her arm and pulled her closer. However, his retort was silenced as a disembodied voice floated through the door in front of them.

"Contrary to popular belief, I have many other obligations to see to today. I would appreciate it if the two of you could 'get over' your issues at a more convenient time…" Breaking free of her dominant's grasp, Rogue opened the door in front of her - preparing herself for, yet another, tense meeting.

* * *

"What did he want?" 20 minutes later, Emma sprung on Rogue the moment the club door had shut behind their three intruders. In answer to the question Rogue simply held up a piece of paper bearing a mobile number, a devious smile playing upon her lips. "Well, hello! What happened to the 'three visit's a year' rule? I thought it was only birthdays and Christmas."

"What's going on with you two?" It was Tabby's turn to look suspicious as she watched the exchange between her two companions. The pair indicated to Rogue's paper and made their way towards the phone - positioning themselves on the closest bar-stools. A smirk disfigured Tabby's mouth, as realisation dawned on her and she beckoned towards the other girls. "Well, well, well…Come on Ladies; time for a master-class in 'customer services'."

Remy Lebeau hung back as the girls leant on the bar, preparing to watch the show. He had no idea what was going on, but he was practically certain he would be craving a cigarette by the end of the phone conversation. _Just another nail in Anna's coffin_.

"_Hello"_ The phone was answered, on the third ring, by a rather rushed sounding male. Rogue smiled at the familiar voice, slipping into her completely professional role of the Temptress.

"Hey, Sugar."

"_Well if it isn't my Southern Belle!"_ She could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"Well if it isn't my Adoring Bachelor." The flirtatious streak in her voice induced three separate reactions from the spectators; The girls giggled, Logan rolled his eyes and went back to his paper, leaving Remy to make a disgusted sound, as he attempted to suppress both his rage and the bile that had suddenly invaded his throat.

"_To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your enchanting voice?"_

"Ah hear, ya'll are in town…"

"_You hear correct…" _Rogue rolled her eyes at his banter.

"Want ta hook-up?"

"_Baby, I always want you…"_ She gave a small grimace at his crass behaviour - which was, unfortunately, a hazard they had to deal with in their line of work. _"When can you 'fit me in'." _Another cringe at his, utterly unsubtle, innuendo.

"Sugar, for someone as important as ya'll, Ah'm sure Ah can clear my schedule." Her voice stayed professional, not betraying the reaction his words induced, remaining sultry with temptation.

"_Perfect, I'll pick you up tomorrow at four and I'll have you back for three on Wednesday."_

"Ah'm lookin' forward ta it."

"_Wear something posh - dress-up a little…"_ From the distant tone of his voice, she could tell he was picturing her.

"Whatever ya want, Sugar."

"_See you tomorrow, Rogue."_

"Bye, Pietro…"

* * *

A/N: So there you have it, another familiar face enters the mix! In all honesty, I did have another scene planned for this chapter - mostly for comedic value - but I didn't feel that it really fit in here, so I might use it later. Just to give you a taster though; it involved a very drunk Tabby and Emma serenading an unimpressed Logan! Lol, till next time folks!

Reviews are appreciated - LOTS!


	11. The World's Most Handsome Man

A/N: Hi guys! Me again. So, there didn't seem to be much interest in the last chapter - judging by the fact that it only got 2 reviews lol. I'm not too sure whether that is due to people losing interest or if chapter 10 was just exceptionally boring. Anyway, I hope this chapter is more popular (hint, hint) but if the story continues to lose fans, I might have to abandon it. But, fear not; if I do decide to take a small hiatus from this fic, those of you who are following the story will be given plenty of notice & explanations.

Anyway, rant over. On with the story! Ummm… so this chapter pretty much focuses on Pietro and the dynamic of his relationship with Rogue. Oh and just a word of warning; Pietro (at the moment, hint, hint) will be known as Pietro Lensherr - rather than Pietro Maximoff. However there is an explanation for this, that will be made apparent in subsequent chapters.

Enter Pietro!

Disclaimer: *Looks innocent* I didn't mean to steal them, honest!

* * *

_**The Worlds Most Handsome Man**_

"_**Handsome Man" By Robbie Williams**_

* * *

The Wild Roses stood by the bar, their surroundings drenched in morbid curiosity, waiting for Rogue to finish getting ready. Emma Frost had spent that entire morning being lectured by Rogue on how she needed to look after the girls tonight, and what to do if certain situations arose. She had taken the 'advice' with an air of indifference; yet, in reality, she was terrified. Emma was not as blind or unfeeling towards their situation as she pretended to be. There were far too many things that could go wrong tonight; it was the first time in four months that Rogue would not be present at the club, which would, undoubtedly, prompt two seperate reactions from their 'adoring fans'. Firstly there would be those who would feel disappointed at her absence, who were likely to become aggressive and proceed to tip poorly - or not at all - for the rest of the evening. But they were manageable - a small annoyance compared to the other half of their audience. Those customers that came under the second category were those who saw Rogue's absence as an opportunity to push their luck. It would be Emma's job to protect the other girls from the clients who tried to test the boundaries of the club's rules tonight. The problem was, Emma didn't carry as much weight as the Rogue - she hoped to God there were no problems tonight.

Remy Lebeau was currently situated at the other end of the bar, instinctively shuffling a pack of cards - their red swirled backs flashing past at an alarming rate, that matched the agitated thumping of his heart. He had no idea who tonight's 'special client' was and, quite frankly, he didn't particularly care. It was all disgusting to him; a waste of a perfect life, another stain to tarnish the memory of his Anna.

"So, like, who exactly is this guy?" Katherine Pryde piped up. She was rewarded by a round of giggles that swept through the group - a particularly devilish grin squirming onto Tabby's face.

"The one and only Pietro Lensherr…" Rather uncharacteristically, it was Jean who provided the information.

"Wait…Lensherr, as in Eric Lensherr?"

"Mmhmm." Jeans vague affirmation only increased the incredulous tone of Kitty's screech.

"Like, Oh my God; the bosses son?"

"Who just so happens to be the worlds most handsome man." It was quite alarming to hear such a wistful tone emanating from Amara's usually well-mannered mouth.

"And boy, does he know it!" It would appear that this Pietro was, yet another, victim of Emma's sharp tongue. "What kind of a man gets his father to hire him a prostitute? That family is seriously messed-up!"

"Honestly Kit; this guy is stunningly hot - he is the most beautiful man you will ever meet… Unfortunately, he just happens to have an arrogantly hideous personality!" Tabby's eyes intensified with excitement as she leant back against the bar; completely focussed on the club's entrance. "But he is great to look at…"

* * *

"_Hello. Did you miss me?  
I know I'm hard to resist…"_

"Well lookey here; a row of beautiful women, all waiting for me…" As soon as his satin smooth voiced weaved it's way to the Wild Roses, their attention was focussed immediately on it's origin. Before them stood the god of perfection - his features smooth and stunning, his body in faultless proportion. All conversation died on their lips as his visage stole away their breath. Even the arrogant smirk, that had found it's way onto his face at their reaction, could not dim his glorious appearance. He accompanied his smirk by throwing his arms wide, to fully present his glory. "Miss me?"

"Naturally" Emma's response cut through his spell, as she made her way towards their visitor and stiffly embraced him. "Good to see you Mr Lensherr."

"God, call me Pietro…Mr Lensherr reminds me of my father!" His voice was full of laughter as he placed an arm around Emma and made his way towards the rest of the group. "Well, well, well…your all looking lovely."

"Good to see you _Pietro_." Tabby giggled and lent forward to deliver a quick two-kiss welcome to the young Lensherr - left cheek first; then moving back quickly and allowing Amara and Jean to follow suit. Leaving Kitty vunerable to be fully appraised by their guest.

"Ah, a new face…" Pietro's smile was full of superiority as he clasped Katherine Pryde's hands. "A simple beauty with a naive charm…I approve." His wink and cheeky-smile caused Kitty to giggle and blush profusely.

"Now, now Pietro; ya'll know better than to hassle my gals…" At the breathy southern tone Kitty's hands were dropped and all of the rooms inhabitants turned their attention to the vision bathed in light, from the stage doorway.

Once again, the Rogue's beauty far out shadowed those around her. The feminine curves of her body were encased in black satin. The dress was tight, but elegant. It sported a low-neckline - which was emphasised by the halter-neck straps - with a simple pattern of white gems below her bust. The full-length skirt pooled at her feet, the combination of her hips and an outrageous split - that reached up to the top of her right thigh, effectively exposing her creamy-flesh - caused it to drag slightly behind her. A large emerald-green stone hung from a silver chain around her neck, coming to rest between her milky breasts. Her make-up was more understated than usual - her eyes outlined in black, wrapped with mascara-lengthened lashes that made her green eyes dazzle, and a light layer of gloss to highlight those perfect lips. Her hair was pulled into an easy bun, with a few wavy strands strategically falling around her face. She was stunning, set with the light haloing her from behind her. She looked like sin; the most wonderful kind of sin.

"You always manage to out-dress me, every time." Pietro Lensherr graced the Rogue with his perfect smile - which she returned with a carefully placed beam of her own.

"Ya told me ta 'dress-up'. Ah can always change if it's too much…"

"No. No, don't you dare. I just…wow." At a loss for words Pietro offered his arm as Rogue glided across the room towards the others.

"Ah'll be back tomorrow afternoon, till then Emma's in charge…try not ta give her too hard a time." Her words were directed towards Tabby, who gave a mock salute with a smirk firmly planted on her lips.

"Well, y' certainly look the part…" Remy couldn't help it; the comment just slipped out as he watched Pietro's hand - which was supposed to be resting on her hip, to aid Rogue's balance in her heels - slip down to grope her behind.

"Not now Remy." Her tone was low and sharp, as her steely glare met his disgusted features, before being escorted out the door.

* * *

"So, who was that?" Pietro's question was laced with undisguised suspicion.

"That would be Remy Lebeau; thief and crook. He's ya father's new 'protégé'." Rogue's mocking told, practically, screamed her views on the matter.

"Ah…" Pietro nodded in understanding; his father had been careful enough to, continuously, drop his new favourite employee into every conversation he had with his son. "He seems like an arsehole…"

"Ah'd say ya'll are a pretty good judge of character."

"And I'd say that you look too damn hot in that dress." He smirked and pulled them to a halt by the wall of the club, pushing her against it, lowering his face to hers and delivering a demanding kiss to her lips. Within seconds Pietro's hands were roughly pulling her hips towards his, leaving Rogue's arms to wrap around his neck. A fiery passion, absent for four months, began to renew itself and, once again, course through his body. He was losing control as he felt her body mould to his. But, somewhere in the back of his mind a voice told him that he couldn't do this - not yet anyway. So after a few minutes, an agonising groan escaped Pietro's throat as he removed his lips from hers. "It's making me regret my plans for this evening; I just want to take you to the hotel and…" He groaned again as too many blissful images, of their previous encounters, filled his head.

"Ah'll do whatever ya want sugar." Her sultry voice whispering in his ears was not helping the situation. So, with a deep breath, he took Rogue's hand and led her towards the awaiting limousine.

"Come on. I've wasted time planning this whole bloody evening - I'm determined to see it through!" He pulled Rogue into the seat next to him and ordered the chauffeur to "Drive!"

As soon as the car started to move Pietro's hands were all over her again. Their lips met heatedly as Rogue began to deliver slow torturous caresses to those, seemingly innocent, parts of his body that she knew drove him wild. His breath quickened as he pulled her closer, craving more contact. It was always like this with her; so desperate, so intense. He moaned as her hand grazed past his crotch, sending shivers up his spine. They had just hit the point of no return, but at this moment he couldn't care less - they could go for it now and still make their dinner reservations. God he needed her. His hand groped it's way to her breast, slipping inside the material hanging from her neck until her felt her skin touch his, causing a groan of desperation to rumble through his body.

Suddenly they were thrown forward as the car made a sharp break and then swung to the right, turning the corner at an alarming rate. They slid to the side, their collective weight crush Pietro into the door handle.

"Are you alright?" Pietro's voice was full of concern as they righted themselves, once the car had settled back into a respectably smooth pace.

"Ah'm fine. What about ya?"

"Oh I'm just perfect!" Sarcasm was not an attracted look for such a handsome man. Pietro slid forward mumbling "I knew I should have insisted we have the Russian instead of that damn freak…" before tapping on the glass that separated them from the driver. It was lowered instantly to reveal a rather pleased Victor Creed. "What the hell was that?!"

"Sorry Sir, she can be a little temperamental sometimes." Creed smiled and tapped the dashboard for emphasis.

"Bullshit! There is nothing wrong with the car, it's your driving skills that are the problem." Pietro's voice was gradually getting louder, as anger engulfed him.

"If you have a complaint Sir, then perhaps you should take it up with my boss." Creed remained calm, clearly finding the situation rather comical.

"You're damn right that my father will be hearing about this! I could drive this thing better than that!"

"With all due respect, _Sir_, it takes a certain kind of man to handle a vehicle such as this…"

"I suppose you're right. After all, we all know what they say about men that drive big cars…Substituting for something Creed?"

"Well at least I don't have to pay for my women…" His voice had suddenly developed a gruffer resonance, signalling Creed's fury at the insult.

"You might want to try it sometime, otherwise you might never get any. It seems to me that all of your sexual frustration is affecting your driving…"

"Tell you what kid; why don't we whip them out now and measure who is more of a man?"

Bored and slightly irritated with the testosterone fuelled display, Rogue decided that it was time to put an end to their little competition. She knew that having Creed as their driver was going to cause problems; but quite frankly she would rather have him here - stewing in his own jealousy - than at the club, where she couldn't keep an eye on him. Rogue was tempted to point out how ludicrous it was for them to be fighting over her; after all, she would never willingly go anywhere near Victor Creed and she was being paid to entertain Pietro. In her eyes there was no winner in this situation. But for the sake of her own sanity, Rogue was going to have to side with the lesser of the two evils.

"Ya don't have ta, Ah've seen 'em both…and Pietro's is bigger." Rogue's harsh comment broke through the proceedings. Her sugar-sweet tones brought a smile to the young Lensherr's lips, as her hard glare bore into Creed's eyes from the wind mirror.

"…_Y'all can come and help me pick the sweetcorn out of this.  
It's hard to be humble  
When you're so fucking big…"_

"We'll be there in five minutes…_Sir_." Creed mumbled. The screen went up immediately, leaving Pietro to settle back into his seat pulling Rogue to his side.

"So where exactly are we goin'?" She inquired as he took her hand.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head - just be a good girl and leave the planning to me…" Rogue resisted the urge to slap Pietro, as he finished off the statement with a derogatory pat on her head.

"…_Did you ever meet a sexier male chauvinist pig?…"_

_

* * *

_

The pair were seated at a table-for-two in one of the more elite restaurants the city had to offer. From their entrance all eyes followed the perfect couple; the stunning beauty and her god-like man. Pietro's head was held high as he absorbed the jealous faces of the other diners. The women, already bored with their own company - whether their table companion was too old for them or simply just as disinterested as they were - were lusting after the young Lensherr. The men, their eyes easily caught by a younger model - no longer caring for their tired old wives or their gold-digging new ones - let their eyes greedily follow Rogue as she floated magnificently across the room. Pietro normally fed on such attention, but tonight required a more select setting. A quick handshake, exchanging a crisp green note, secured them a secluded table and a bottle of the finest champagne to start their evening.

"…_I'm gonna milk it till I turn it into cheese  
Tell your babes in arms and OAP's  
Come take a piece of me…"_

"Wow, this place is classy…Oh, and tha prices match tha settin', how charmin'…" Rogue frowned as she examined her menu.

"Only the best, of course. Go ahead and order anything you want; Dad's paying!" Pietro smirked impishly "I plan on having the lobster with a side order of their biggest steak, how about you?"

"Ya'll sure know how ta party Sugar…" Rogue's light giggle carried like music, attracting the attention of every male in the vicinity. "Are we meetin' some of ya friends?"

"Nope, just you and me." A light frown troubled the beauty's face for a mere second, before it was replaced by a gentle smile - offered to the waiter, who was privileged enough to take their order.

The situation was strange. Rogue had known Pietro for five years; long enough to know his habits, long enough to know his moods and long enough to understand his ways. Their relationship had changed, altered and developed accordingly throughout the years - from that of a teacher and student, to a customer and purchase and finally morphing into the peculiar dynamic of a socialite and his companion, who was to be displayed for all to see and admire. At the beginning of their relationship she would spend a few hours with him in a hotel room, as Pietro grew older those hours began to lengthen into days - until she would keep him company for as long as he was in the city - and finally she had turned into his escort - accompanying him to parties and gatherings, as an ornament to show-off to his friends and then spending the rest of their time in bed.

Yet this 'dinner-for-two' did not seem to fit with their affiliation - usually the only reason they left his hotel room was to impress his acquaintances. The whole situation wasn't right; he only wanted to see her for the one night, they hadn't gone further than a quick grope and he was wining and dining her alone. Perhaps there was something different - something wrong?

"…_If you drop me I'll fall to pieces on you  
If you don't see me I don't exist  
It's nice to meet you  
Now let me go and wash my hands…"_

* * *

"…_Cause you just met the world's most handsome man  
The world's most handsome man…"_

"Man, my trainer is not going to be happy about this!" Pietro chuckled whilst pushing his two, now empty, plates away from him.

"Ya have a trainer?" Rogue's question was one of polite interest as she daintily dabbed at her own food.

"Of course! I wouldn't have made it to the state competition if it wasn't for Mark."

"What are ya competin' for?"

"A place in the state's track team, hopefully…"

"Ya're are a runner?"

"Sprinter, actually…" He let out a low chuckle that sounded unnervingly like his father's. "You didn't know that?"

"Should Ah have?"

"…_Y'all know who I am  
I'm still the boy next door…"_

"Well, I've been running since I was 12 - I'm pretty good, actually. If I do well at the state competition next year, I have a shot at making the team - which might even lead to a place in the Olympics, someday…but that's going to take a few years. And it means I'll have to cut down on this stuff." He swirled his glass of champagne before finishing it's contents and grabbing the bottle to refill their glasses.

"…_That's if you're Lord Litchfield and Roger Moore…"_

"Wow…that's really impressive. Ah can't believe Ah never knew…"

"Well, I don't suppose we really talk all that much, do we?" Pietro threw her a small smile and directed his gaze towards the table.

"We never really had tha need ta, Ah suppose." Rogue returned his smile and reached across the table to clasp his hand - bringing his eyes back to hers. "So, when exactly is this big competition?"

"Next June."

"Well, ya better call ta tell me how ya did!" The mock authority in her tone made them both snigger.

"You'll be the first, I promise…even before my dad." For a brief moment the only note displayed in Pietro Lensherr's voice, was complete sincerity - what a rare occasion this was.

* * *

"That was perfect, thank ya…" Rogue pulled Pietro's coat closer around her, in an attempt to ward off the fresh wind, as he led her towards their limousine.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Pietro noted that he seemed to be able to control himself better when her body was more adequately shielded from his view. Now he just needed to keep up-wind of her alluring scents and out of the focus of those magnificent eyes.

"So where ta now, Sugar? Back ta tha hotel?" Her question came as he climbed into the seat next to her - tapping the window to let Creed know that it was time to leave.

"Feeling a little randy, Princess?"

"Whatever ya want, Sugar…" Her voice had taken on that irresistibly sensual tone again, as she lent towards him - her hand resting a little too high on his thigh.

"Oh believe me, I do want…" He almost lost himself in her seduction, but pulled back slightly - determined to see the evening through. "But, I really don't want to miss the next part - I had to pull a lot of strings to get this sorted…and I'm kind of looking forward to it."

"So mysterious…" Rogue backed-off slightly - taking the hint; doing what she was told; playing the good hooker.

* * *

"…_Have I gone up in the world  
or has the world gone down on me?  
I'm the one who put the Brits in celebrity…"_

"A jazz club?" Rogue stared in amazement at the neon sign in front of her.

"Yep. Is there a problem - I mean, we could always go somewhere else if you would prefer?"

"No, it's fine. Ah just didn't pick ya as a jazz kinda guy, that's all."

"Well, apparently there are lots of things you don't know about me…" Pietro caved at her raised eyebrows. "Alright, you got me! I don't tend to make a habit of going to places like this - it's much more Wanda's scene than it is mine. But I was talking to St John the other day and he mentioned that it was pretty good…so I thought I would give it a try." He shrugged as though this decision had meant nothing - when in reality it had taken a lot of planning to set it up.

"Ya'll are friendly with St John?" Her disbelief was embarrassingly obvious.

"The guy's a nutcase, but he is, generally, the only one with a sense of humour at my dad's functions. It's funny what brings people together…"

"Wow, Ah really don't know much about ya, do Ah?" Rogue wondered exactly how well Pietro really knew St John. She very much doubted he realized that the pyromaniac was practically stalking his twin sister.

"He also mentioned that they have a sort of 'open-mike' thing on select nights…" Pietro shrugged again, this time a sheepish-expression capturing his features. "Usually people have to audition…but I greased a few palms and got you a slot…"

"Oh my Gawd!" Rogue's eyes lit up with an intensity that Pietro had never witnessed before.

"St John said you were a pretty good singer…"

"Oh. My. Gawd!"

"You don't have to if you don't want to…" Pietro was beginning to think that this wasn't such a god idea after all. "It's just…Well, St John said that you would enjoy it…and I kind of wanted to hear you sing so…"

"Ya want ta hear me sing?" Pietro looked so worried that Rogue couldn't help but laugh. "Ya shouldn't fret so much, Sugar! Oh course Ah want ta do it…Ah'm just shocked is all. Ya don't normally do something like this…"

"Maybe I'm finally growing-up…" He gave another shrug, before leading her towards the door and into the warmth.

"…_Give in and love it  
What's the point in hating me  
You can't argue with popularity  
Well you could…But you'd be wrong._

_If you drop me, I'll fall to pieces on you  
If you don't need me, I don't exist  
You voted for me  
Now let me see a show of hands  
Here before you stands._

_Can you make me laugh and sign this autograph  
Though it's not for me  
Flip a grin, shake a thing, name a shame  
Then I'm out of here…"_

* * *

"…_It's not very complicated  
I'm just young and overrated…"_

Her back slammed against the wall as Pietro tried to unlock the door, to their hotel room, without removing his lips from hers. The club had been fun; over crowded with little private tables, in a dark room full of smoke. Not really to his tastes, but Rogue seemed to love it. Everything had been going well. They sat and talked, getting to know each other better, relaxing more having replaced the stiff champagne with whiskey and coke. He was managing to keep it under control. Until she sung, that is. She had chosen "Fever" as her preferred song - from all the one-hundred-and-fifty possibilities. From the moment the notes started to pour from her lips, Pietro couldn't contain himself. She had never looked so alive. He couldn't even enjoy the jealous looks of the others customers, she was too breathtaking. His eyes just wouldn't leave her.

The moment she had stepped off the stage, he had pounced. Bringing her body close to his and leading her towards the exit. Her shock had not lasted for long, only pausing a split-second before reacting to his advances. She always reacted, countering his every move - something he would come to analyse at a later date.

The ride to the hotel had been painful; their hands and tongues groping and exploring, yet trying to maintain a distance. Forever balancing on the edge of something, waiting precariously to fall over at any moment. Thankfully there was no need to check-in, as he had taken care of that before picking her up. It was the elevator ride that pushed him over that invisible line - his hands finding the slit in her skirt and providing access the smooth skin he craved.

With her legs wrapped around his waist, he finally managed to steer them through the door, just in time for them to tumble onto the bed. With a groan he realised, all to late to stop it, that she was pulling away - leaving him to lay lonely on the sheets. She stepped back, turning on the light, enabling him to fully see her. Propping himself up on his arms, Pietro watched as she pulled her hair loose and allowed it to tumble around her face before moving to her dress. She untied the neck at a torturously slow rate and then left the material to fall, simply pooling at he feet - exposing her bare breasts and a set of black-lace French-knickers. He groaned at the sight, letting his head fall back in desperation. Finally he felt those endless legs straddling his hips and her delicate hands beginning to free him from his confines.

* * *

"…_Please don't drop me I'll fall to pieces on you  
If you don't see me I don't exist  
It's nice to meet you  
Now let me go and wash my hands  
Cause you just met the world's most handsome man  
Here before you stands  
Please don't drop me I'll fall to pieces on you  
If you don't need me I don't exist  
It's nice to meet you…"_

The Rogue sat propped-up against the headboard, staring at the sleeping figure beside her. She was thinking about their first time - his first time. They had met during his visits to his father's work, when he was fifteen and liked the idea of 'hanging-out with hookers' better than the prospect of homework and video-games. Unlike Wanda - who had been disgusted and appalled at her father - Pietro didn't seem to mind when he discovered that Rogue was the same age as he and his twin. As a matter of fact, it was this knowledge that had spawned his interest in her particularly.

Back then, Pietro was awkward and gangly, not having grown into his features yet. He was just another two-hour job to her, at the time - more money to pay off her debt. He had been nervous and unsure of what to do, worried that he would mess-up and embarrass himself. So she had taught him; gently leading him through his first experience. He began to regularly request her time; slowly gaining confidence in this new-found sexual field. He wanted to experience everything; every position, every act, every touch. He had even tried experimenting with some of the softer kinks that the Rogue offered, but had soon discovered that they were not to his desire.

Their time together began to lengthen, sometimes lasting for days at a time. Days locked in one room together, only stopping to eat and refresh; never escaping into the fresh air. At that point, Rogue had begun to hate her sessions with Pietro; she loathed the way the room would constantly wreak of sweat and sex and how their combined stench of the act would linger on her body, with a haunting presence. She would never show it, but a week trapped within the four walls of an overly lavishly decorated hotel-suite was enough to make her nauseous.

Fortunately, Pietro's good looks and his father's social-life began to take effect. This combination mixed with Pietro's move to college, provided Rogue with an escape from their condemningly oppressive meetings. She didn't even mind when he began to take her out as the jewel on his arm - a piece to display for his friends admiration and jealous praise.

These days, Pietro only visited the city a few times a year. Whenever he was in town, he would request Rogue's company for the duration of his stay. During this time they stayed in a hotel room, unless Pietro felt like showing her off. On average, there was an 'outing' to attend six out of the seven days they were together. The rest of their time - mornings and nights - were an endless cycle of sex and drink. Even when out, on occasion, if Pietro could no longer control himself, he would drag Rogue into the toilet of whatever club, restaurant or theatre he was parading her around and lock them away for a session of fevered passion - before returning to his companions, satisfied for the time being.

He certainly had stamina; most nights they would go numerous rounds, and he was still eager for more in the morning. She had come to realise that when he finally dropped off to sleep, it was due to sheer exhaustion from the vigorous activity - rather than an inability to perform.

But this time was different. He had only requested her for the night, which had never happened before - although perhaps he really was just too busy. They had actually spent time together, just the two of them, which did not revolve around some kind of sexual activity. But most disturbing of all, was that Pietro Lensherr was asleep next to her by 11:52pm - after only the first round.

After the club things had been fast and intense, returning them to the confines of their normal relationship. Having been the one to teach Pietro all of his sexual behaviours, Rogue knew everything about that side of him. She knew how he liked it, knew how to behave, knew when to take charge and when to become submissive. She knew what each of her touches would do to him and how each of his would affect her. If he had been anybody else he might have become bored with their, almost, predictable relationship by now. But there was this constant, raw sexual tension between them, that seemed to light the sky with sparks. This was what made it hard for Pietro to control himself in her presence - he just couldn't get enough.

For her part, Rogue was relatively unaffected by their situation. It was her job to make men feel the way they wanted to - and she was damn good at what she did. For her an electrifying evening of passionate sex meant nothing more than sore limbs in the morning. Tonight's 'session' had been the same as all their others; completely mind blowing and utterly exhausting. They had finished just as sweated and out-of-breath as normal. Finally seperating to lay back against the pillows with small gasps of swirling passion - gasping for much needed air and relaxing their over exerted limbs.

Rogue had never bothered to time Pietro's recovery rate - the whole practice suggested an air of anticipation that was not a part of her ritual. However, she was well-practiced at reading his body and his reactions. The shallowing of his breaths, the muscles in his legs relaxing and the ones in his arms flexing - ready to run his hands through his hair. All of the signs clearly displaying that he had hit the right point - recovered enough that he was able to 'function', but not too relaxed that he had to get worked-up again.

The moment Rogue sensed his state she began to run her hands across his body, forming a well practised pattern - stroking, caressing, feeling his body's reaction and readying him for round two. But his hand had clasped around hers and he had uttered the words that had caused Rogue's current state of musing; "Not tonight."

Pietro had never refused her before - always ready for more until his body passed out from sheer exhaustion. Yet tonight he had simply turned to face the Rogue and settled into his pillow, slowly drifting off with his hand still encasing hers. He was different, wrong somehow. If he ever settled into sleep, before, it was always with his back to the woman he had paid for.

His strange behaviour was unnerving. But the thing that bothered her the most was that for the first time, in a very long time; a man had managed to surprise the Rogue.

"…_Now let me go and wash my hands  
Cause you just met the world's most handsome man  
The world's most handsome man  
The world's most handsome man  
The world's most handsome man…"_

* * *

A/N: So there is your first mention of Pietro! He will be making at least one other appearance in this fic & play an integral role in part of the storyline.

Sooooo, what to expect in the next chapter (which should hopefully be making an appearance very soon)?…Well there will be some Emma angst and our first introduction into her past. Another familiar face will be entering the mix (Feel free to guess, if you get it right I will give a shout-out to you in my next A/N! Now if that isn't an incentive, I don't know what is lol) Ummm, there will be another appearance from everyone's' favourite pyromaniac and there will probably be some more Remy/Rogue interaction.

Oh, and just to clarify; this fic will eventually be a ROMY!!! Rogue is sleeping with Pietro because she is being paid to do so and Remy is flirting with Tabby because, well, he is Remy Lebeau and she is a good looking (and ever-so-slightly easy) female. But be warned; it will take a while before we get to the Romy-ness.

Please review with any sort of feedback you have - I'm getting desperate here folks!


	12. Interlude: The Shadows

**AN**: So, I know I promised a special guest this chapter…but technically this is only an interlude, so I'm not breaking my promise lol! Anyway, I had this bit all planned and basically written out, but had nowhere to put it - so here it is! It should really go at the beginning, but I thought it would be better placed further into the story - when the situation had been well and truly illustrated.

So apologies for the short length and absolutely no mention of the characters! However, I am just putting the finishing touches to the _actual _next chapter, so it should be with you in just a few short days (I hope)!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Eric Lensherr or the lyrics to _"There is No Place Like London" _from Sweeney Todd, however The Shadows are all mine!

* * *

_**The Shadows**_

_There's a whole in the world like a great black pit  
__And the vermin of the world inhabit it  
__And its morals aren't worth what a pig could spit  
__And it goes by the name of…_

_At the top of the whole sit the privileged few  
__Making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo  
__Turning beauty to filth and greed…_

_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit  
__And its filled with people who are filed with shit!  
__And the vermin of the world inhabit it…_

The Shadows is the dark and depraved part of town; the place where any dodgy deal or deceitful act can take place unnoticed, populated with lost souls and those corrupted by despicable pleasures. By day the dealers and the muggers pound its pavements in search of fresh meat and by night the street walkers swarm under the watchful eyes of their pimps. The buildings are adorned with low-end shops clubs and bars that form the thriving centre of this village of sin.

Every player that makes up this warped community are simply crawling insects, hiding in the dark and skirting in the shadows, waiting to pounce. The police have no authority over these streets. Of course they keep up appearances, but any underhanded deed can be hidden within The Shadows, for a price; hence it's name. The Shadow's only answers to one authority; the biggest player at the top of the food-chain. Periodically this figure will change and pass on, as the scales of infamy are tipped in the direction of another dark soul. This figure controls every player in town and earns a cut from every business in this swelling pit. Their law is final, disobey and you suffer. There are no cosy cells for those who challenge their rule, just pain, torture and death. Rivals fight over the reign but inevitably one will fall to the other of higher respect. And the latest king of darkness goes by the name of Eric Lensherr.

For years these streets were home to the poor and privileged alike - for good money is even prepared to slum it with the dogs, for certain pleasures. Children of high-class families blew their trust-funds on the same dealers that sold to common street urchins. Well respected business men paid to be entertained by the same whores that the criminals and addicts dipped into. The elite were willing to associate with the filthy, disease ridden mutts that lived in The Shadows, simply because there was nowhere else for them to indulge their dark side. This is how Eric Lensherr made his name.

He saw a gap in the market - an opening for potential. He understood that the well-groomed privileged were worse than the scum that populated these streets. They may go home to perfect families and shining apartments, but they were the ones who came to The Shadows to indulge in the most depraved of acts. But why? Were they not happy with their alcoholism and affairs with their secretaries?

Of course not; once you've tasted the sweetness of hell, there is no quenching the crave for more. Whether they were old money or new money, they were ripe for exploitation. Why should these shining examples of society be forced to walk the same streets as low-lives and thugs? Why should they pay for cheap thrills from women who are either too infected or too addicted to do a decent job? After all, didn't they deserve the best?

So Eric Lensherr purchased a run-down club on the outskirts of The Shadows; a more upmarket area, yet still far enough away from all that is clean, holy and good to still attract a more immoral clientele. He turned the place around and opened the areas first exotic dance show. The Rose Garden's prices were higher than those of any establishment within The Shadows, immediately drawing the attention of anyone with excess money to spend. He only hired the best of the best. His men were the strongest, the most loyal and the most respected and his girls were the cleanest - free of any drug addictions or diseases - and most beautiful and talented in their profession. The police accepted The Rose Garden as a high-end strip club and the punters knew its renowned reputation as a brothel. It was the highest in its class and rivaled by none.

Eric Lensherr had personally managed to extend The shadows to a more respectable area; where no scantily-clad women stumbled the streets at night, in search of clients and no homeless drunks slumped in doorways for yet another night in the open. The streets of this new town were paved with gold not trash, yet it was no less depraved than the pond it spawned from. So with his connections and associates in the slums and business in the light, Lensherr managed to unite the Old Town and the New Town under the name of The Shadows. The glamorous and the decrepit under the same title and the same rule. But, despite the New Town's glimmering facade, in reality the two towns were both the same.

The same suffering and the same injustice. The same pain and the same scars. Lost souls exploited for the entertainment of others. Neither were better than each other; the prostitutes and the whores, the thieves and the muggers, the thugs and the bullies, the distributors and the dealers. Everyone of them left to drown in this all consuming pit of sin. All at the disposal of one broken man - who, unfortunately, remains unchallenged and unrivalled.

Hell holds nothing but comfort for those poor unfortunate souls, who dwell within The Shadows.

* * *

**AN**: So basically just background-y stuff on our setting. As most of you may have noticed, I haven't specified exactly which city/state this delightfully upbeat (yeah that's sarcasm lol) story is actually based in - although I take it that most of you assumed it was New York? The truth is that I don't honestly know either. New York makes the most sense to me, but being British and never having actually been to New York I'm not entirely sure (I know, I am no help).

But The Shadows is an area of a city that is entirely my own creation, so it is probably safe to assume that the setting is largely fictional - except for when otherwise stated, like in the first chapter. Although I do kind of imagine it as the Old Town in the film Sin City (well almost anyway lol).

Just to clear-up though, this story is set in an area where prostitution is NOT legalised - which will be shown a little clearer in later chapters.

(This is the last bit, I promise) Next chapter sees a return to the regular plot - I just had to add this in so I can start referring to The Shadows lol. I will try and update soon, but I am severely snowed under with A-Level exams and I really want to get the grades to go to the uni I want, so I make no definite promises…But in about a months time I will be fully at your disposal!

I thank everyone of you lovely readers for your support and advice (especially **jat15** who prompted me to add ROMY to the blurb lol) and as always reviews are appreciated immensely!

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	13. The Poor Tormented Youth

**A/N:** Okay, so I still made you wait. But in all fairness, I have been doing exams and stuff so you can forgive me - right? Anyway, I would first like to thank all of my wonderful reviewers & apologise for the, slightly needy, desperate plea for reviews (in the chapter before last). But, at least it worked hehe!

I'm really happy about the response the Pietro/Rogue relationship got. I really wish I could have done a couple of 'chauvinist-pig Pietro' chapters first, but this story is going to be epic enough as it is so I had to go straight for the 'slightly weird, change in their relationship' chapter first lol!

But never fear, we shall get to the ROMY eventually!

Right so, this chapter is mainly just dialogue between the characters with not much description. But what can I say they are a group of girls, it is inevitable that they are going to talk a lot.

**Disclaimer:** *looks awkward* so it's a funny story actually…_Apparently_ Marvel wasn't too keen on me kidnapping their characters and forcing them to work in a high-end strip club…Ahem, so it looks like I don't own them…

* * *

_**The Poor Tormented Youth**_

_"And you're singing the songs  
Thinking this is the life  
And you wake up in the morning and you're head feels twice the size  
Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go?  
Where you gonna sleep tonight?_

_Where you gonna sleep tonight?"_

_**"This Is The Life" by Amy Macdonald**_

**_

* * *

_**

"Our almighty leader returns!" As Rogue entered the club the next morning, she found the girls - with the exception of Emma Frost - all crowded around one of the circular tables. Judging by the amount of money piled in the centre of their circle - a substantially larger pile sitting at Remy Lebeau's elbow - and the hand of cards that each of them held, it would appear as though Remy was teaching the Roses how to play Poker.

"Good mornin' ta ya too Tabs. Ya'll have had a productive mornin', Ah see."

"The stud-muffin over here is supposed to be teaching us Poker, but so far all he's managed to do is teach us how to lose money." Tabitha Smith wrinkled her nose and cast a wistful look at Remy's winnings.

"Ah'd check his sleeves if Ah was ya; Lebeau's a snake when it come ta cards…" Four identical glares graced the faces of the Wild Roses and Rogue couldn't help but feel proud; _Ah taught them well._

"You little sneak! I want my money back!" The rest of the girls just threw their cards down and allowed Tabby to take the lead.

"Well, Remy guess dats tha end of dat then…" The Cajun threw Rogue a dirty look before heading out the way she came in. "He be having a smoke if y' need him…"

"Um Tabs, I think that's the money I lent you." Amara looked expectantly at her friend, who shrugged and handed over the large wad of bills she had scooped from the table.

"Sorry 'Mara…but you can't blame a girl for trying." Her impish grin then turned towards the Southern Belle. "Pull up a chair 'Oh Nameless one'; 'Bitch queen of the South'; 'the Artist formally known as Anna'…"

"Call me that again and ya will have a 'serious accident' with the straighteners…" The harsh reply caused Tabby to falter slightly.

"…Or whatever title you would prefer…" The conclusion of her sentence was rather rushed and carried a slightly higher pitch than the rest of her statement.

"Rogue will do fine…" The beauty glided towards the seat that Remy Lebeau had just vacated and perched on the edge.

"So…How was 'His Royal Highness?" Jean supplied as a way of breaking the tense silence.

"Good actually…did ya'll know he ran?" Rogue's expression had become thoughtful as she, once again, returned her attention to last nights peculiar set-up.

"Only away from the Filth - just like his old man…But come on; give us the dirt! We want _all_ the details…"

"Looking for a few tips Tabitha?" Jan Grey smirked at her blonde friend.

"You can talk Red, I make twice as much as you!"

"Lets try and have a mornin' without ya'll bickerin' with each other, shall we?" Rogue's exasperation was dangerously obvious, causing the Roses to fall silent - with one last immature gesture thrown Jean's way. "Ah actually had an alright evening'."

"What did you do?" Amara's sweet tones morphed the question into one of polite interest - as opposed to Tabby's interrogation.

"We went ta that new restaurant a few blocks away. Small portions of fancy food that costs way too much, an endless supply of drink and snooty serving staff - the usual really…"

"So, who did you meet up with this time? Was it the overbearing trust-fund lot, again?" Tabby enquired.

"No actually, it was just the two of us." A small smile graced Rogue's features as she relived the pleasant conversation that had continuously flowed between the two of them, the evening before. Maybe there was hope for Pietro Lensherr.

"Whoa, back up there! What was that?" Tabby was suddenly intrigued by the situation, for some reason unknown to the Rogue.

"We just went out to dinner, it's hardly great gossip material Tabs…"

"So you just spent the night together, just the two of you, no one else?"

"Ah fail ta see what has ya all worked up Tabs. Pietro and Ah spend a lot of time alone together, it's kinda what Ah get paid for."

"Yes, but he _never_ takes you out to dinner, without other guests to show you off to! If your alone you're getting it on and if you're out in public, you are the arm-candy for his friends to swoon over; that's how it works, right?"

"Yes, but…"

"So, I'm right in saying that last night was a little different from usual?

"Yes, Ah suppose. Normally its dinner with friends and back ta the hotel for the rest of tha night. But last night was…_different._ We had dinner, then he took me ta a jazz club and…"

"Oh my God!" Whatever had Tabby all shaken up, also seemed to have had an effect on Amara and Jean as well.

"Okay, now what tha hell is up with ya'll now?!"

"He took you on a date!" Amara squealed.

"Oh my God! He, like totally, took you on a date!" Katherine Pryde enthusiatically agreed.

"Ya'll have lost ya minds." The Rogue shook her head in disbelief.

"You don't look too tired…How many times did you do it?" Her eyes widened at Tabby's abrupt questioning as she turned to Amara, expecting the younger girl to scold her friend for her inappropriate line of questioning. However the eyes that met her gaze were those of polite intrigue.

"What tha hell does that have ta do with anything?!"

"Well, if it was the usual…" Amara looked towards Tabitha to provide the correct phrasing.

"All night long, x-rated, romp of passion." The blonde was more than happy to oblige, adding a wink for good measure.

"…Well what usually happens when he comes to town…" Amara blushed slightly as she paraphrased her friends words "…then he was probably just hungry and in need of an energy boost. But if he was _different _then it really does seem like a date…"

"What Amara means is; if you went at it like rabbits until he passed-out from exhaustion, then you have nothing to worry about. _But,_ if it was only one -or two - rounds and then snuggling down to fall asleep in your arms, then I think we have a problem." They were all looking at Rogue expectantly as the truth dawned on her face.

"Then Ah think we have a problem…"

"Oh my God! This is sooooo great! What was it like?" Amara gushed.

"Yeah, come on! We want all the details!" Tabitha grabbed Rogues hands as the others giggled beside her.

"Well, what do ya'll wanna know?" Rogue's mind was a haze of confusion as she tried to comprehend the situation.

"Did he hold the door open for you and pull out your chair?" Jean swooned as her eyes misted with memories.

"Did he, like, hold your hand across the table? That's, like totally, romantic!" Kitty sqealed.

"Yeah, but he always does; he is a gentleman after all…Look, Ah ain't entirely sure what is goin' on here so maybe someone should explain this ta me." No more confusion, it was just pure irritation that shone from her tones.

"Urgh! Come on, Rogue. You have to see where we are coming from here! He didn't pay you to escort him to meet his friends and he certainly didn't get his moneys worth in the bedroom department." Tabitha's own exasperation was now reaching the point of her mentor's. "He took you out to dinner and a _romantic _jazz club for drinks! Fair enough the hotel room and end of evening sex was a little optimistic, but still it all adds up to a date!"

"Wow, you slept with him on the first date! Tut tut, Rogue." Jean mock scalded their leader as she tried to absorb everything Tabby had said.

"Woo! Your easy girl - all it takes is dinner and a drink and your anyone's!" The four all giggled at the blonde's words. Apparently even Kitty understood this particular situation better than, the overly experienced, Rogue.

"Alright, calm down! How tha hell did this turn in ta an insult against me? It was _not _a date. All Ah did was entertain tha guy for an evenin'. Ah get paid ta do whatever he wants - whether it is sex or just dinner, that is my job." Amara began to frown as she studied her mentor, before cautiously glancing at her now quiet friends.

"Rogue, I hope you don't think this rude of me but…Have you ever been on a date before?" The question caused Rogue to stop, leaving a moments hesitation that spoke volumes to her audience.

"Well…no, Ah guess not…Ah don't really get time for dates workin' in this place…"

"What, not even with that hunk of a jock you were seeing back home?" Jean and Amara threw Tabby a glare, warning her off the subject they had all agreed to stay away from, causing her to throw her hands up in a show of innocent surrender. "Hey, I was just asking…"

"No. Ah mean, my father was a strict Christian and very overprotective, there is no way he would of let me go on a date. It took three months to convince him about goin' ta Cody's prom…" Her answer was hesitant and, almost imperceptively, troubled.

"Wow, something we know more about than the Rogue! This is strange…"

"So ya'll really think Pietro took me out on a date?" The four merely shrugged in response. "But why would he do that…?"

"Beats me. Maybe he has finally lost the plot?" Tabby shrugged again, as Rogue studied the group - as though she was only just seeing them for the first time - a slight frown twisting her features.

"Where's Emma?"

"Off feeling sorry for herself somewhere probably…" Tabitha snapped with a look of annoyance.

"I think she is on the fire escape…she is kind of avoiding us…" Amara, as ever, proved to be the more helpful of the two.

"Yeah 'avoiding us' by telling us to 'fuck off' every time we ask what's wrong! I mean, the least she could do is explain why she pissed off half way through her shift last night and left us on our own!"

"Okay, what happened exactly?" Rogue reasoned, trying to calm the fiery blonde.

"Well we don't really know, to be honest." Jean provided "Emma just disappeared after her 10 o'clock client. Apparently she's been going between her room and the fire escape all night, Remy had to sleep on the couch because she kept waking him up. She won't even talk to any of us."

"This is Emma we are talking about; she's probably just sulking because she was under-tipped!" As usual Tabby's lack of concern for her blonde friend was not surprising to the others.

"Well why don't Ah see if Ah can get some answers." With that Rogue left the group to their own business and headed towards their living quarters.

* * *

Concern, fear and agitation were the three emotions that ruled the life of the Rogue. Currently, only two of the three were occupying her time. She was agitated that Emma had left the girls alone last night, after Rogue had specifically told her to look out for them. In a club such as The Rose Garden, it was not enough to rely on the hired security, the girls had to fend for themselves - and in Rogue's absence it falls to Emma, as the next most experienced, to take the lead.

Rogue's concern, however, was at present more dominant than her annoyance. As self-centred and difficult as Emma could be, it was severely unlike her to just disappear for no apparent reason. _Something must have happened._ In which case, the Rogue couldn't help but feel apprehensive at the sight that awaited her on the fire escape.

She hesitated at the door. There were so many reasons why she could not enter the room and, for a moment, her body refused to push against her mental barriers and continue forward. She stood before the door at the end of the corridor of bedrooms, looking at the faint outline in the middle of the wood - a ghostly spirit of the former owner's name plaque. The room beyond had once belonged to Elizabeth Braddock, and the mere memory of Rogue's lost friend was enough to prevent her from entering. Then, of course, there was the rooms current resident - Remy Lebeau - to consider. The man who was currently encroaching on her new life, digging up the lifeless body of Anna from the recesses of her mind. Yes, she was biased against the reminder of her past life, but Lebeau also posed another threat. It was bad enough that a male was sharing their home, but this particular man - a thief of hearts - was particularly dangerous.

She had to enter, despite her fears. This bedroom provide their only access to the fire escape, which was currently home to Emma Frost. So, calming her breathing, Rogue turned the handle and pushed the wood forward.

She was met by a briskly cool breeze, emanating from the open door at the other end of the room. The fire-safe door had been propped open by a small chair, which had previously sat at the desk on the left wall. Rogue trying not to look around the room - preferring to remember the place the way Betsy had decorated it, rather than Remy's simpler tastes - made her way towards the poor example of a fire-escape; where she found Emma leaning against the railing, her eyes drifting into the distance as she smoked.

"Ah heard ya'll are sulkin'"

"Been talking to Tabitha, have you?" The blonde acknowledged, keeping her eyes firmly trained on the distance.

"Well Ah was kinda hopin' ya had a good explanation for whatever tha hell ya'll are playin' at."

"It doesn't even matter." Her voice was low and raspy from disuse as she took another drag from her dwindling cigarette.

"Tha hell it doesn't Emma! Ya better have a darn good reason for disappearing' last night, 'cos Ah ain't accepting anything less." The agitation in the Southerner's voice was enough to cause Emma to turn and face her. Her eyes were glassy from lack of sleep and her skin was a shade paler than usual; not the bright-eyed ice-queen that Rogue had said goodbye to yesterday.

"Fine." There was no denying the Rogue. Emma could avoid the others as much as she wanted, but Rogue was her superior so it was time to swallow her pride. "I got a new client last night and well…"

"There was a problem?" Rogue guessed when Emma failed to complete her sentence. "Did he want something ya weren't comfortable with? Do Ah need to warn tha others?"

"No, he won't be coming back." The blonde shook her head and turned away. "It doesn't even matter. I'm just being over dramatic…"

"Emma, ya need ta tell me what's got ya all turned around. Ah can't help if ya won't let me." No more agitation, just pure concern. She had never seen Emma like this before; she looked so small and exhausted.

"I…well, I knew him…"

"He's been here before?"

"No, I mean, I knew him _before_." Emma looked around herself and sneered in distaste "Before _this_, before _everything_!"

"How? Where from?" The older woman closed her eyes and hung her head. "Who was it Emma?"

"A guy named Daniel James…He used to be one of my father's biggest clients…"

As with many of the girl's, the subject of Emma's past was one to be approached with extreme caution. It was hardly surprising considering how high she had fallen; from Beverly Hills golden girl to down-town prostitute.

Emma's father had been an exceedingly successful business man that provided her and her elder brother - by two years - Matthew, with everything and anything that they had ever needed or wanted. Her life had been perfect. Their mother was…somewhere; another place, another family. If she was honest, Emma didn't really care. Their father was busy with work and his - considerably younger - new wife, so Emma and her older brother were brought-up by a string of different nannies. The freedom of her life-style had caused the young Emma to develop a demanding and self-interested attitude that she still wore today.

Unfortunately, when she was eighteen Emma's father had been exposed as a fraud; his investment company was closed down and all of the family's assets frozen. Coincidently, the morning the police delivered the news to the confused teenagers, was the same morning they had awoken to find their father - his possessions and his convertible - gone. No note, no forwarding address, not even a goodbye; to this day, Emma had no idea where her father had fled to. He just left his children and trophy-wife to deal with the mess he had created of their lives.

The next three months were drowned in confusion and anxiety; their step-mother left to the arm of another absurdly rich divorcee, Matthew was forced to drop his college career and get an actual job and their home was slowly stripped of their possessions - as they sold their past to fund the future. Eventually a routine was formed and the siblings began to embrace their independent lifestyle, in their own unique ways. Matt worked a gruellingly tedious job to support the household, while Emma partied. She didn't share in her brother's new-found maturity and sense of responsibility, instead she continued to live like the princess she had grown to believe she was.

Regrettably, by the time their house was taken away from them, Matthew Frost had finally had enough of his sister's behaviour. Considering how precarious the siblings' relationship had been before the disaster had struck, it is a miracle he was willing to support Emma for as long as he did. By the time she turned twenty Emma had been abandoned by the last family she had left.

But he had been right; she was irresponsible, she was immature and she was definitely not able to look after herself. Originally Emma had moved to the city with dreams of becoming an actress. However, with little success she was passed from manager to manager, before finally being taken in by a tired, balding man in a cheap grey suit. Unfortunately the pair had a differing opinion as to what sort of movies the young blonde should be making. But, after one particularly terrifying visit from her landlord, Emma found that she was desperate enough to do anything for the money to pay her rent.

However, Emma's career in the glamour industry only lasted for one, low-budget, film. She was by no means a prude, but Emma could not bear the idea of someone that she knew finding out that she was the star of such a film. Past boyfriends, lovers, friends, her brother or even her father; the very thought of who might stumble upon that footage, was enough to make her stomach turn. So, taking the advice of some of the girls on-set, Emma auditioned for a job dancing at "The Rose Garden". She was certainly not the best dancer to audition that day, or by any means the best looking, but what she did have was confidence. In a room full of beautiful and talented women, it was Emma's ability to not feel ashamed of revealing her body to a room packed with strangers, that secured her a permanent position; as one of the clubs main headliners. She would later learn that it was, in fact, her background among the 'privileged' that had tempted Eric Lensherr into employing her. Emma's ability to blend with the socialites tended to make her more appealing to clients, an asset that - to Mr Lensherr - was more valuable than talent or beauty.

To this day, the subject of Emma Frost's past remained a deeply painful subject for her to discuss. They say that the higher you climb, the harder you fall; well she had certainly fallen hard, crashing into what sometimes seemed to be the very pits of hell itself. Surrounded by other people's anguish and destruction had undoubtedly played a hand in forming Emma's bitter exterior. Going from living the high life with expensive cars, fancy parties and a seven bedroom mansion; to the bad side of town with public transportation, being the entertainment at some jerks seedy 'all-lads' party and not even being able to afford her own apartment. No, it was safe to say that Emma held a great deal of resentment towards her father for abandoning her

Emma sighed and slumped forward onto the rail. "…He had so much money invested in _my father's _company, he practically owned half of it. He was loaded - had, at least, double the money our family had - he had houses everywhere and investments in so many companies that he had to carry a binder to remember them… But he and my father were close. More than just golf buddies, I mean, they were like _family_. He and his wife used to come to ours for Sunday lunch and go to dinner with my _parents, _we used to play with his children…" Emma closed her eyes and let out a mildly hysterical giggle. "God! Matthew and I called him 'Uncle Dan' until we were teenagers!"

"Ah'm sorry Emma…" Rogue, for all of her experience at the head of the Wild Roses, had no idea how to console her friend.

"It was his way of getting back at Dad… He lost a lot much money when the company went down - not that it really did him any harm, a couple less houses in the Caribbean probably." Her ice-blue eyes turned to steel as she gripped the railing, beneath her perfectly manicured hands. "When I saw him last night and saw that _recognition_ in his eyes, I didn't know what to do…"

"Ya should have got one of the others ta do it for ya, they wouldn't have minded if ya explained ya reasonin'." The younger woman placed her hand on Emma's shoulder, as the blonde shook her head.

"No, he asked for me…He wanted _me_. Just a way to get one over on my Dad; 'You took my money, so I screwed your daughter'. Ha! It would have worked if my father actually gave a damn about me… I mean, I don't even know where he is, for God's sake!" Emma took a calming breath, lifting her head and addressing her friend "What was I supposed to do? I couldn't exactly say no, Lensherr would have done his nut!"

"Ah know Sugar, Ah'm sorry Ah wasn't here…"

"Doesn't matter, I'll survive. I'm just being a 'Drama Queen' as usual, right?" Emma's bitter smile told Rogue differently. "You know, I used to think it was funny the way he watched me. I used to amuse myself, strutting by the pool in my bikini when he came over… Back then I thought everything was a game… But last night was real. And, for the first time since I started working in this dump, I understand how the rest of you feel. You're always talking about the clients that make you feel dirty and sick; and how the things you have to do for them - _to them _- make you feel hollow and…and…_ashamed!..._ I never understood that feeling - I'd never felt it - until last night" The blonde fumbled with an empty cigarette packet, in attempt to find solace in another smoke. "I don't know what to do! I've smoked, I've drunk… I don't know how to make it go away! I can't stop feeling so…so…"

"Disgusted? Empty?" Rogue smile slightly and removed the empty packet from Emma's grasp. "Ya need to distract yaself Sugar; stop dwelling on it. That feelin' won't go away by itself."

"I know… Its just, well, not _me_. The whole 'inner-demons' crap isn't my thing."

"Well, congratulations Sugar, Ah think ta just officially became a Wild Rose. It only took ya, what? Three years?" They shared a small smile, before Rogue's expression returned sombre again. "If ya give me a description of this guy, I can ask Poitr ta make sure he steers clear? Logan does have the right to refuse service to anyone…"

"Don't worry, he won't be back. He got what he wanted."

"Then it seems like a good time ta move on, if ya ask me."

"Sounds like a plan." Emma too a shuddering breath before pushing away from the railing, dusting her outfit off and delicately folding her arms across her chest. "So, in the spirit of distracting me from my problems: How did it go with Pietro last night?"

"It was a date, apparently."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back-up a second, what?!" Rogue smiled at the blonde's sudden interest. Apparently all she needed to forget the soul-destroying events, of the previous evening, was some light gossip that threatened to disrupt someone else's life; Emma Frost was certainly unique.

"The other girls seem ta think he took me on a date, although none of us could figure out why."

"Okay, so explain to me what happened exactly."

"Dinner in a fancy restaurant, drinks at a club and then we went back ta his hotel room." Rogue shrugged. When described like that, the events of the night before did not seem particularly controversial. But she knew Emma would understand; doing anything other than sleeping with Pietro Lensherr, was very out of the ordinary.

"Well now, that does sound like a date." Emma's eyes were alight with intrigue, as her mind ticked over the information. "But I suppose it makes sense, in a way"

"How so?" It was the Rogue's turn to frown. It was very unusual for Emma to understand something that she, herself, didn't.

"Well, its what he does isn't it? He uses you as a trial-run for other girls. Maybe he is finally ready to actually try a proper relationship? From what I've heard, he just goes from one girl to another in a series of one-night-stands." The older woman shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which, Rogue had to admit, it was. Sometimes Tabitha's theatrics tended to cloud her logical thought processes.

"Ah guess ya'll are right. Eric will be pleased; he has been tryin' ta get Pietro ta settle down for a while now. Something about wantin' to leave the 'company' to an adult, not an irresponsible child." Emma's face screwed up in disgust.

"Its weird when you use _his_ first name, you know that right? Especially seeings as you've just climbed out of his son's bed."

"He's human Emma. What do ya want me ta call him, 'the Big Bad Wolf'?"

"Mr Lensherr will do fine… I honestly don't understand how you can be so casual with him, especially after all he puts you through."

"Its just business, Emma, nothing personal."

"I fail to see how anything _Creed_ does actually benefit's the business…"

"And we're officially changin' the subject!" Rogue cut off the blonde's mumble with her sharp tone. "Ah think its time ya went and joined tha real world again, Sugar. Want me ta accompany ya downstairs?"

"No, I'll be fine." The blonde sighed and pushed away from the railing. "You should grab a nap before work. I'm a big girl, I can handle myself…" She smirked as she went through the door back into Remy Lebeau's room. "Anyway, I have to tell Remy that I borrowed and finished all of his smokes. That should entertain me for a little while."

Once the blonde had disappeared, Rogue took a moment to enjoy the fresh air. Last night had been…amazing. There was no other way for her to describe it. For an entire evening she had lead a normal life; just a normal girl, on a normal date. It had been liberating. Yet, in less than an hour of being back at the Rose Garden, the crushing weight of responsibility had already settled back into place. This was why she carried on like she did; Emma simply wasn't strong enough to take on everything that the club had to throw at them.

As she made her way back inside, Rogue's footsteps faltered at the sight of the rooms inhabitant; Remy Lebeau. _Of course, Ah haven't exactly set a shinin' example of how ta face ya past when it catches up with ya._

"Good night?" His question was a sneer that crept up her spine until rage clouded her mind. _Then again, he hasn't exactly made this easy._

"Ya know how it is Remy. Ya'll deal in sex as much as Ah do." Rogue's voice was low and controlled; a slow seethe that would have sent any sane man running. But then again, many would argue that Remy was hardly a 'sane man'.

"Except, Remy don't sell himself for it." He stood his ground as the Rogue glided forward, invading his personal space.

"And how exactly is seducin' some poor girl and runnin' off with her jewellery in tha mornin', any different from me takin' the money that is handed ta me. Actually, Ah think Ah have tha moral superiority on that one."

"Remy didn't know whores had morals." They were staring straight into each others eyes now. Granite against emerald, both as cold as stone.

"There's a lot of things 'Remy doesn't know'"

"Oh, do enlighten me, _Anna_. Remy's dyin' to know what excuses y' goin' to hide behind now." She flinched at the name, but it did nothing more than strengthen her resolve.

"Why don't ya just go and play with Creed. Ah hear ya'll are tha best of pals these days…"

"Dat's funny chere, 'cos he has a few stories about y'. Seems da two of y' are pretty close as well." Rogue stepped back, as though he had physically struck her. "Guess old Remy's right then; your anyone's for a price…" She was out of the door before he could finish the sentence. _That_ was something she couldn't deal with right now.

* * *

The evening had been relatively uneventful; easy clients and easy money. As usual, the inhabitants of the club were winding down with a drink in the bar. With stress of the previous evening having apparently warn off, with Rogue's comforting presence, the only slight dampener on the festivities was the obvious tension between Remy and the Rogue. However, since the night of Remy Lebeau's arrival at the club, the strained atmosphere between the two Southerners had become something of a normal occurrence.

"So there I was, trying not to laugh, and he only goes and pulls out a matching outfit for _himself!_ I was like; seriously, how am I supposed to work under these conditions?! Of course, I was completely professional and acted like it was all very sexy. But really, we looked ridiculous!" Tabby was once again entertaining them all with her 'client stories'. The group were in hysterics, even Logan - who was attempting to stay stern and disapproving, but failing miserably - was sniggering.

With the drink and laughter, they almost missed the rapid and frantic knocking that suddenly assaulted the door of the Rose Garden. It was Logan, Rogue and Remy that noticed the sound first, quieting the group as they approached the door.

"Bloody hell, it took you long enough! My arms are going dead here!" The Australian accent was easy to place. Immediately sending the Wild Roses into a fit of excitement, that was quickly extinguished by the horrified look on Rogue's face.

"My Gawd St John, What have ya done?" Her voice was a whisper as the Southerners and Logan backed away from the door, allowing the others to see the Saint.

He was halloed by the glow of his own headlights, yet his image could not look less innocent: For in his arms, lay the body of a young woman. There were five, synchronised gasps as the Roses processed the scene before them.

"Jesus, you're an over-dramatic bunch!" The Australian exclaimed as he made his way into the club. "_**I**_ haven't done anything. Now is someone going to help me before I drop the poor lass?"

Logan immediately stepped forward, taking the girl from his arms and carrying her through to the living quarters. St John made to follow him, but was stopped by Rogue's hand on his chest. The Roses watched as Logan passed them with the girl, giving them a closer look at her appearance. She was pale, with heavily smudged make-up and startlingly black hair. The situation did not look good, for the girl or St John.

"I'd get a bucket if I were you mate!" The Australian shouted to the retreating bartender, before turning to face Rogue with a sigh.

"What happened ta her?" Her voice was strong and authoritative, yet he couldn't help but chuckle.

"Be damned if I know Sheila…Jesus, your all so serious! She's only bloody drunk!" Rogue visibly relaxed and removed her restraining hand. "Bloody hell, you're all so quick to assume the worst! Do you honestly think I'd have it in me to hurt the lass?"

"Of course not, but Ah need ta know what's goin' on. How did she get unconscious, Sugar?"

"Look, all I know is that I got a call about an hour ago - real noisy background and she's slurring her words, but I just about make-out what she's saying - asking me to come down to this club, in the old town. So I go, and when I get there I find her off her face. She was just stumbling around with this guy - who, by the way, was a real creep - and was all ready to go home with him. But I managed to wrestle her away and take her outside. By the time I got her in the back of my car, she'd already passed out." He sighed again and looked anxiously at the door Logan took her through. "I couldn't find her keys, so I couldn't take her back to hers and I didn't think she'd appreciate waking up at mine." Another sigh that was, this time, accompanied by a shrug. "I didn't know where else to bring her, Sheila…"

"Its alright, Sugar. We'll look after her." Rogue gave him a comforting smile and placed a delicate hand on his back. "Why don't ya head home and Ah'll have her give ya a call tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I suppose… I don't want another bollocking from Lensherr." With a half-hearted wave, St John disappeared through the door, which was quickly locked by Rogue.

"Well, this is certainly a turn of events." The southerner smiled slightly, talking more to herself than anyone else. Then her voice rose as she gestured towards the door beside the stage. "Well come on, off ta bed. Ah'm willin' ta bet good money that we'll have an interestin' day tomorrow."

They obediently followed her orders - with Remy throwing her an icy glare, before following suit - leaving the Southerner to wait for Logan to leave, so she could lock-up. As the group walked down the corridor they stopped to watch Logan wrapping a blanket over the pale girl, who now occupied their rec-room sofa.

"Who is she?" Kitty Pryde whispered her question, so as not to disturb them.

"She just so happens to be Pietro Lensherr's twin sister." Tabitha Smith Smirked as Jean ushered them towards the stairs.

"You mean she's, like, Mr Lensherr's daughter?" Kitty couldn't resist another look at the unconscious female, who looked so different from the rest of her family. It was Amara who came to her side, linking their arms.

"Yes. Katherine Pryde, meet Wanda Maximoff; the proverbial black sheep of the Lensherr family."

-------------------------------------------

**A/N:** So, congrats to **NeeNee** for (not only being the ONLY one who took a guess but for also) guessing this chapters guest character correctly! I also feel I should appologise for my recent lack of review replies; my laptop is currently running on it's last legs and whenever I try to open-up anything in another window, my internet crashes. But rest assured, I appreciate all of my reviewers!

As always, reviews are really appreciated!

Please!


	14. The Bitter One

**A/N:** Hi guys! Miss me? Really sorry for the loooong wait, but I've started uni (and have now entered second year...wow, how crap am I? – Don't answer that!) so I haven't had too much spare time. But I am desperate to get this story out, so I'll do my best. Oh, and be on the look-out in the next few weeks because I am planning on posting one of my character study pieces that relates to this fic; it will focus on Remy, just after Rogue leaves, so check it out (more details in my A/N at the end).

So here it is; Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** You know the deal guys; Marvel got there first, I'm just playing with their characters.

* * *

_**The Bitter One**_

"_To the Moon and Back" by Savage Garden_

_

* * *

_

Rogue was hardly surprised to find the Wild Roses already dressed and cramped around their small kitchen table, at 9am the next morning. Nevertheless, it took her a few moments to fully process the scene, before the alluring scent off freshly brewed coffee brought her back to her senses.

"So this is what it takes ta get ya'll up before mid-day?" She leaned against the counter and sipped the coffee she had just plucked from Tabitha's hands. "Are ya'll that desperate for some gossip?"

Before they could reply, a light groan announced the arrival of their visitor as Wanda Maximoff stumbled through the kitchen doorway.

"Mornin' Sleepin' Beauty, rough night?" Rogue smirked as the pale and dishevelled girl attempted to glare at her.

"Do you have any idea how depressing it is to wake up in this crap-hole?"

"Ah think Ah know a little somethin' about that." She smiled and directed Wanda towards an empty chair, handing her a cup of coffee. "Here, drink this."

"I really doubt that is going to do any good. I feel like hell."

"Trust me, you don't look much better." Emma drawled, smirking as Wanda answered with her middle finger.

"Well Wands, this is what happens when ya drink ya own body weight in vodka. See girls; let that be a lesson to ya. Ya'll can take Miss Maximoff's example here as ya very own after school special." Rogue pulled out the chair opposite Wanda and waited for the rest of the Roses to gather behind her. "So...?"

"So what?"

"Sugar, as much as Ah love this little impromptu visit, Ah'd quite like an explanation as ta why ya were unconscious."

"I 'drank my own body weight in vodka', remember?"

"That's painfully obvious, but Ah'm goin' ta need ta know why."

"Not yet." Wanda grimaced. "Just give me a little while, yeah?"

**"_She's taking her time making up the reasons  
To justify all the hurt inside..."_**

"Fine, but Ah better hear about it later. Oh, and ya might want ta give the Saint a call as well; let him know ya're not still comatose."

"Crap, crap, crap." The girl put her face in her hands, as realization dawned on her. "I called St John last night? God, I was hoping that was just a dream."

"Ah'm afraid not, Sugar. Although, it does leave us with a particularly Freudian question; why exactly was St John – the man who is supposedly stalking ya – the subject of your drunken phone calls?" Rogue smiled as Wanda's face scrunched-up and her cheeks took on a rosy hue.

**"_...Guess she knows from the smiles  
And the look in their eyes  
Everyone's got a theory about the bitter one..."_**

"Well, maybe he's not as bad as I first thought…"

"Explain." Amara cut in.

"Why do I get the feeling that this friendly chat is rapidly turning into some form of interrogation?"

"We've been pretty low on gossip recently, so we need the dirt." Tabby smirked.

"I'm glad my life is such an abundant source of entertainment for you." Wanda squinted and held her head. "I don't suppose you could dim the lights in here, could you?"

"No, so quit stalling and spill."

"Torture the information out of me why don't you…" Wanda's mumbled reply was dry, but the defeat was evident in her eyes. "Look, a couple of months ago I got sick of the little creep turning up everywhere I went. So, when I found him drinking in my favourite café, I decided to confront him. I mean, I could deal with the constant phone calls asking me out, but it had gotten to the point where I couldn't turn around without seeing his face."

"Ya have ta give it ta him, the boy is persistent." Rogue interjected as she refilled Wanda's cup.

"Not exactly the word I'd of used, but…" She paused, taking a sip of the steaming liquid. "So, I sit down and start yelling and all he does is sit there, with that stupid grin on his face. God I wanted to hit him… But then we just started talking and before I knew it, it had become a sort of weekly _date_. I mean, don't get me wrong, he is still an insufferable little creep who follows me around everywhere. But, on Thursday mornings in the café, he is just a normal guy. And we have a lot in common, you know? He gets my parent and sibling issues; he understands me. Then last night, I was really messed up…"

"So ya called the person ya knew would help; the person ya know would do anything y asked him to?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Wada looked around the kitchen, before frowning at the girls. "But how the hell did I wind up here?"

"St John wrestled ya away from the creep ya were ready ta go home with and brought ya here. He couldn't find your keys and figured ya would freak out if ya woke-up at his place, so he dumped ya on our doorstep – metaphorically speaking, of course."

"I guess I owe him the world's biggest apology." Wanda held her head again. "Christ, I have the mother of all headaches. I don't suppose you know any good hang-over cures?"

"Only one guaranteed remedy I know of." Tabby rummaged in the cupboard behind her, before pulling out a bottle of scotch and placing it on the table. "Just keep drinking."

Wanda paled at the sight of the dark liquid, silently thanking Rogue as she tugged the bottle out of sight, sending a glare towards her younger colleague.

"Ah think she's done enough of that, Tabs. Perhaps we should try a more conventional method?" She sighed and turned towards her sick friend. "Why don't ya go take a shower? Ah'll leave ya some clean clothes by the door?"

"Yeah, that actually sounds good." Wanda nodded as Rogue guided her out of the room and away from prying eyes. "Sorry about all this."

"Don't mention it Sugar. But I would like ta ask ya one last question though."

"Shoot."

"Do ya have any kind of romantic interest in St John?"

"Well..." Wanda sighed and looked away. "It's not like that, you know? We're friends; he's just someone I can really talk to."

"But Ah take it ya are aware that he sees it as more than that?"

"You think I'm leading him on, don't you?"

"Ah think ya're using him ta unburden all ya troubles. Which is fine Wand, but Ah really do think he likes ya. The poor guy's knight in shinin' armour routine is useless if ya don't want ta be saved."

"I think I probably do need saving. I mean look at me; I hardly scream functional, do I?"

"But the question is; is it St John ya want ta come ta ya rescue?"

"Jeez, that's a can of worms best left shut..." Wanda shook her head, clearing the thoughts from her mind. "No; I need him as a friend. That's as far as it goes."

"Maybe it's time ta let him know that, Sugar. Last thing any of us wants is ta see either of ya hurt."

**"_...They're saying:_**

**_Mama never loved her much_**  
**_And daddy never keeps in touch_**  
**_That's why she shies away from human affection..."_**

_

* * *

_

**_"__...But somewhere in a private place  
She packs her bags for outer space  
And now she's waiting for  
The right kind of pilot to come..."_**

Eric Lensherr had not exactly had the best start in life; the only child of a strictly working-class family, young Eric's scholarly mind had been squandered in public school. However, after achieving the highest marks of all his graduating class, he was offered a substantial scholarship, which enabled him to complete his education at one of the country's most prestigious colleges. It was here that Eric Lensherr first met Charles Xavier.

Assigned as roommates in their first year, the boys soon discovered that they had found their intellectual equal. With their grades far surpassing most of their fellow students, the pair began to realise that their only competition could be found in one another. For Eric, such an academic equal was a relief compared to the friends he had back home. Charles, however – who had grown up the son of a prominent diplomat, privately educated in a well-respected neighbourhood – found Eric's experiences of growing up in the real world to be fascinating. They were constantly challenging each other; constantly trying to further themselves in preparation for their ambitious futures. They were kindred spirits.

Charles Xavier's future in government had been a certainty since his early teens, yet only now, with Eric's influence, could he see the true potential of his position. They began planning their way to the top; a double team of masterminds that would be unstoppable. Xavier's connections, public upbringing and notable family combined with Lensherr's experiences of the working class and controversial political views; the two were certain to make a difference.

Their dream became a reality after they both graduated college with honours, at the age of twenty-four. Charles stood as the front-man to their revolutionary policies; gaining the recognition they needed to push themselves forward, with Eric firmly by his side as an advisor. With all the right meetings, the pair found themselves primed for the top. Financial backing was practically being thrown at them from all angles, everyone in full support of the fresh-faced youngster who were going to change the world.

However, that was until one fateful meeting changed the boys' lives forever. One policy Charles had been keen to uphold was to provide poorer children with opportunities that would not normally be available to them - an idea he had gotten from Eric's upbringing. In the early stages of their career, this took the form of an employment scheme within the party. One particular summer, a temp was hired as a secretary to one of Eric's assistants. At 18 years old, Magda Maximoff had entered the scheme after graduating her public High School; the terms of her contract stated that she would work for the company throughout the summer and in return, they would sponsor her through her college career.

Eric Lensherr had been enchanted by the girl from the moment they met. She was soft spoken, smart, beautiful and well mannered. To Eric, she was a breath of fresh air in the power-hungry world of politics. Magda, for her part, idolised her mentor; she was besotted. The more time they spent together, the closer the pair drew; Magda falling steadily in love with the older man and Eric lapping up her devotion.

Their affair was - of course - kept a secret, ending dutifully on her last day of employment. However, a month later Eric Lensherr was to find a tearful Magda on his doorstep, late one evening. She was pregnant; with twins. The scandal caused a huge blow to their campaign and all of their lives. The Maximoff's were outraged at their daughter's misfortune and Charles Xavier found himself drowning in bad publicity. Magda, however, was terrified; just at the beginning of her college career, she knew that if she didn't get rid of the babies her life would be ruined. As she sat on Eric Lensherr's sofa that night her head spun with everyone else's opinions and solutions, so much so that she could not hear her own thoughts.

To see his Magda in such distress almost broke Eric Lensherr's heart. She was a scared child looking for comfort, not admonitions and tribulation. That night he was the only person she had; the only one that was there for her. He didn't tell her what to do, he didn't worry or yell or reprimand her for troubling him. No, he simply held her and in that moment, she fell in love with him all over again. Perhaps it was this that opened her mind to a new possibility; she didn't have to get rid of her babies, nor did she have to hand them over to someone else. She didn't even have to drop-out of college and raise the children on her own; because, when she woke-up next to her lover the next morning, Eric Lensherr had a proposition for her.

**"_...I would fly you to the moon and back  
If you'll be, if you'll be my baby  
Got a ticket for a world where we belong  
So, would you be my baby?..."_**

They were going to get married. Yes, she would have to leave college and, yes, he would be forced to put his political career on hold; but they would be a family. Within six months they were a married couple and Magda had given birth to twins; Pietro and Wanda Lensherr, named after Eric's parents. Even though money was tight, they were happy, contented and utterly in love.

However, Eric's new lower standing within Charles Xavier's political rise, brought him closer to some of their less than favourable associates; and it was not long before Lensherr's head began to be turned towards their more profitable practices. With Charles still angry over the scandal that threatened to destroy their success, Eric grew lonely. Bored of his desk job, its considerably low pay grade and the suppression of his vast intelligence; his moral code began to slowly chip away.

This was how Eric Lensherr first became acquainted with the Shadows. He started slowly, collecting money from those within the political sphere who owed their low-life dealers for supporting their secret habits. Soon he was permitted to actually carry and distribute the goods, as well as collecting on debts. The rich preferred this new way of business; keeping their transaction within the light, where nobody would think to look, rather than sneaking around in the Shadows.

As his corruption grew, Lensherr was further elevated within the forbidden community. His intelligence saw him promoted within the criminal sphere, as he brought new business ventures and profit to whoever he worked for. It was then that his dear wife began to notice the change within him. Still the beautifully moral girl Eric had married; they began to argue over her disgust of his lifestyle. No longer being a love-sick teenager, Magda was forced to see who her husband really was. But she had nobody to turn to; her friends were just starting their careers – their new lives - and her family had disowned her, when she had decided to leave college and start a family. She was trapped; unable to leave for the sake of her precious children, whom she could not support on her own. Eric, too, began to feel the pressure of his married life. As they argued whenever he was home, he began to find comfort in the arms of other women.

With the stress of her situation – her loneliness due to her forever absent husband and the cabin-fever, induced by her housewife vocation – Magda failed to notice her deteriorating health. She had put her symptoms down to anxiety and pressure; until one day, when her 9 year old twins came in from the garden to find their mother unconscious on the kitchen floor.

Eric Lensherr was at the hospital when they diagnosed his wife with a brain tumour; he held her hand as they were told there was nothing the doctors were able to do at this late stage, and he comforted his crying children as they broke the news to them. However, that night, he could not comfort his wife. How had she not noticed? How had she let it progress that far? How could she be so selfish as to leave him and their children alone?

As Magda's condition rapidly deteriorated, Eric Lensherr's life continued as normal; and on the night she took her last breath, he received the call from the bed of one of Charles' twenty-something secretaries.

In that moment, Eric Lensherr broke. It was as though he could finally see the truth; Magda had not been the problem, it had been him. He had destroyed both of their lives. He had shattered their marriage. He had abandoned her to suffer through the last, painful, six months of her life, alone.

Eric spent the next week hauled up in his office, preparing the funeral. He had not even returned home to check on the well-being of his children; instead, merely calling Magda's parents and instructing them to take responsibility for their unwanted grandchildren. He surrounded himself with memories of his dead wife – pictures, songs, letters – until he was so desperate to have her back, for one last moment, that he tore at his hair and clothes; allowing himself to be consumed by earth-shattering tears.

The funeral was the first time Eric Lensherr had been exposed to reality since his wife's death; and he found that the world had changed in his absence. Charles was, once again, there to offer a supporting hand; his friend, confidant and equal, back at his side. Magda's parents were holding the grandchildren they had never wanted to exist in the first place. His blood boiled at the audacity of the comfort they offered the twins – _his_ children. How dare they deem themselves worthy to console his son and daughter, when they had abandoned their own child? All of the rage and torment, which had built up in the last week, was released onto his mother and father-in-law as he had them thrown from the ceremony. With his arms aching, Eric Lensherr then found himself desperate to hold his children, as he shut out the world so that his family could grieve together.

The next morning, however, Eric's world was once again to come crashing down around him, as he entered the kitchen to find his Magda at the table. But she wasn't quite right; she was smaller, younger. The same dark hair, the same disapproving look; but her eyes were blue not brown. As his breath caught, Eric was suddenly aware of the striking resemblance that Wanda bore to her mother. Whereas Pietro was, without a doubt, a carbon copy of his father; Wanda was Magda's twin, mannerisms included. He found that he could not approach his daughter, for it was as though he was facing his wife all over again; guilt rising up to strangle him whenever he was to look at the child's face.

However, much to his surprise, Eric Lensherr found that Wanda did not seek him out; neither of his children did. They seemed quite content to comfort each other. It then occurred to him how close the twins really were, and it startled him even further to discover that he was jealous of the fact. In order to comfort himself, Eric needed to comfort his children. Yet, with Wanda's close resemblance to his dead wife, he found himself unable to approach her.

So, two weeks after her mother's death and at only 10 years of age, Wanda Lensherr found herself shipped off to a considerably expensive boarding school. Lensherr knew that the siblings would be difficult to separate, so he had told Pietro that Wanda had asked to be sent away. Eric lead his son to believe that his sister was abandoning him, so that he would let her leave without causing a fuss; in turn causing Wanda to think that her twin wanted her to go.

However, with Wanda gone, Eric Lensherr's life still continued to deteriorate. He could not focus on his work, whether legal or illegal. All of his money was now going towards paying for Wanda's education and whatever remained was spent on the alcohol that numbed his sense of grief and guilt. Eric was drowning. He had no money, no way of providing Pietro with the care he needed and no way out. At the age of forty, he had lost his whole world; his wife, his life, his dreams.

Unable to bear watching the pain his former friend suffered, Charles Xavier extended an offer to his companion; he was prepared to loan Eric the money he needed to start his own business. At first Lensherr did not know what to do; all he had ever strived for in life, was political success with Charles by his side. But now that dream was gone; Xavier was moving ahead, a great success on his own and Eric was left broken in his wake. Looking back on his youthful aspirations, Eric Lensherr found that he no-longer agreed with his former self. He could no longer see any happiness within politics; he no longer strived to make the world a better place. In fact, he began to doubt whether he ever had. No, politics was Charles' dream; it was power that Eric had truly craved. It was then that Eric realised that the only true power he could get lay within the Shadows.

Having spent enough time observing the way underhanded business was conducted, he had gained a good enough understanding of where everyone else was going wrong. So Eric Lensherr decided to take on the underworld. Of course Charles Xavier was quite rightfully dubious when his friend first revealed his desire to open a seedy club, on the outskirts of the more respectable part of town. However, his judgement was clouded by his guilt at the part his abandonment had played in Eric's downfall. So he reluctantly agreed, with a few stipulations; the club would be in his name, although Lensherr was free to run it as he wished. In doing this, fifty percent of the profit would go to Xavier – as they would technically be business partners – and Eric had to employ two of Charles trusted companions – James Logan and Ororo Monroe - so that they could keep an eye on his interests. Lensherr agreed to the terms and within a year The Rose Garden was open for business.

* * *

Whilst her father rebuilt his life, Wanda's was spiralling out of control. She had watched her mother die, whilst her father had remained absent and she had then been abandoned by the only family she had left. Pietro and herself had been inseparable, they knew each other better than they even knew themselves; yet her twin had been happy to watch be taken away. He hadn't even fought for her. The day she left was the last time Wanda had spoken to her brother civilly; now she was deserted to face the world alone.

**"_...She can't remember a time  
When she felt needed  
If love was red then she was colour-blind..."_**

She would come home during the holidays to find her father as absent as ever; leaving her and Pietro to be looked after by the girls that worked in his club. For the most part Pietro seemed oblivious to their father's despicable nature; Wanda, however, was not so blind. The older she got, the more she saw. She began to realise that her mother's sorrow had been caused by her father's infidelities and morally dubious practices. She could see that the women of the club – far from the glamorous entities they appeared to be - were really prostitutes and her father their pimp. Though, being so far removed from their world during term time, Wanda could not bring herself to care too much about her father's habits and business ventures.

However, this all changed the moment she met the Rogue. The day Wanda arrived home to find the young girl working in her father's club, was the day that changed her life forever. At the age of fifteen and a virgin, Wanda had never even considered what it would be like to work in such an establishment; yet here was a girl, the same age as her – perhaps even a few months younger – doing just that. She had never felt so sickened in her entire life; how could her father allow something like this? At that moment Wanda was forced to stop feeling sorry for herself and admit that her father cared for nobody but number one.

Pietro, Wanda soon discovered, was thoroughly intrigued with the idea of such an easily accessable girl of his age, and wasted no time in getting his father to set up a 'meeting'. As she had spent a great deal of her Christmas break getting to know Rogue, Wanda was thoroughly appalled to learn that her twin brother had become one of the girl's clients; using none other than their father as liaison.

**"_...All her friends, they've been trialed for treason  
_****_And crimes that were never defined..."_**

After realising that Pietro had lost his virginity to a prostitute – who just so happened to be one of her closest friends, by this point in time – Wanda began to question her own lack of sexual activity, having never even kissed a boy. Her vindictive and spiteful sentiments towards her father and brother began to manifest themselves in the form of a reckless attitude. However, in an all girls boarding school with strict restrictions on socialisation, the options were limited. Coupled with a stifling need for love and affection, that had been building since her mother's death, this led her straight into the arms of her history teacher, Duncan Loyd; a married man exactly twice her age who had just become a father for the first time.

**"_...But she's saying;  
_****_Love is like a barren place  
_****_And reaching out for human faith  
_****_Is like a journey I just don't have a map for..."_**

The affair was passionate and all-consuming, taking a toll on the young girl that she would not fully realise until she was much older. But, at the time, Wanda found herself blinded to all but him. Her grades suffered due to their clandestine meetings and her inability to focus on anything else, when they were not together. She began to need and depend on him so entirely that her world consisted of nothing else; something which he did nothing to discourage. He was young at heart, after all, and began to fall for the thrill of excitement and secrecy as much as she had. So that by the time his wife began to suspect, he was too far in to see his way out.

They were spending the night in the small apartment he kept – for when he had early class, or so he told his wife – when he broke the news that their affair was no longer a secret. Duncan's wife had no idea, of course, that his mistress was half his age; she merely suspected that he was seeing another teacher at the school. Nevertheless, she was threatening to leave him, so the time for action was upon them.

**"_...So baby gonna take a dive and  
_****_push the shift to overdrive  
_****_Send a signal that she's hanging all her hopes on  
_****_the stars..."_**

As Wanda sat terrified on the edge of the bed, feeling as though all the oxygen had been sucked from the air around her, he took her hand; he was leaving his wife. Her heart soared as the words passed his lips, floating higher and higher as he assured her of his plan. He was going to stop teaching and get another job – although he had no idea as to what type of job – and he would buy a bigger apartment; and then they could be together. Although everything would have to remain hidden until she became legal, they would still have each other.

He loved her, he said; he needed her and nothing was going to keep them apart. Wanda could not quite believe how perfect everything seemed, she was finally going to be loved and looked after the way she had craved since the age of ten. She did not need her brother or father anymore because she had Duncan and, one day, they would have their own family. That night could not have been more perfect; as they basked in the glory of post-coital bliss, the pair talked for hours of the life they would build together. For the first time, in a long time, Wanda was happy; joyous even.

**"_...What a pleasant dream..."_**

However, the situation did not seem quite so ideal, when she awoke in the early hours of the next morning. As she disentangled her limbs from her lover's and sank into a chair by the window, Wanda realised that their plan did not appear quite so flawless in the harsh light of the dawn. In fact, it seemed fairly absurd.

He was going to give up his life – his job, his wife, his daughter – for her; it seemed incomprehensibly ridiculous. She was only just sixteen, after all; she had her whole life ahead of her and anything could change in that time. She loved him – yes, in that moment Wanda believed that she loved him – but she had yet to finish school, and then there was college to consider. She was going to change as a person, and what would happen if that person no longer loved Duncan; what would happen if she fell in love with someone her own age? He could not destroy his life for her; she was still no more than a child.

Then there was his family to consider. How could Wanda sit a wallow in self-pity over her own neglectful father, when she was planning to deprive another little girl of hers? Had she not despised her own father for the way he had treated their mother; for all the affairs he used to drive her into the ground? And yet, here she was playing house with another woman's husband.

The shame coiled in her stomach like a hideous beast. How could she have been so selfish? How had they allowed the affair to reach the point where it was threatening to devastate everything; not merely just the pair of them, but everyone else as well? They couldn't, and she knew it.

"**_...I would fly you to the moon and back  
If you'll be, if you'll be my baby  
Got a ticket for a world where we belong  
So, would you be my baby?..."_**

Wanda left before he awoke, crippling sobs wracking through her body during the cab back to the school. Her whole world crumbling away in front of her, the debris landing on her chest and smothering the breath from her lungs. She still loved him and her body – her heart – ached to turn back and run into his arms. Yet she knew that she could not. For the third time in her short sixteen years of age, Wanda found herself growing up before her time; her mother's illness, her father's abandonment and now the loss of her first love, leaving her with an exhaustion beyond her years.

She had left a note, in her place on the pillow beside him, instructing Duncan to return to his wife. He should tell her that the affair was over and, to prove his loyalty, they would move away; he would have to transfer jobs and they would never be able to see each other again. He had to take care of his own family. So he did, and now those six months were nothing but a memory.

In time, she began to blame Duncan for the damage the relationship had wrecked on her already tattered life; especially after confiding in Rogue. Wanda had been no more than a child after all, and he had left her to shoulder all responsibility for the affair. He had spun fairytales of impossible futures and immersed himself in childish fantasies, leaving it up to her to be the mature adult; a responsibility she had not been ready to take. The whole relationship had taken a heavy toll on her, leaving Wanda's life to take yet another nose dive.

Looking back, she knew now that she had never really loved him; she was merely besotted, infatuated. He was an obsession born from her desperation for any form affection. He too had merely been acting out of loneliness, his wife suddenly preoccupied with the new baby to whom she was devoting all her attention. The difference was – as an enraged Rogue had pointed out on many an occasion – that he was an adult, whereas Wanda was merely a naive little girl. He should have known better; he should have been the one to stop it before they got too attached; before they became so thoroughly devoted to one another.

* * *

Now Wanda was living in an apartment on the other end of town. Not going to college – as Pietro did – she lived off of her father's money and spent a great deal of her time 'doing nothing' in the company of people she knew he would not approve of. The Roses, of course, being at the top of this list of individuals; Eric having insisted that they sever ties, the moment he realised that his daughter was no longer an innocent little angel.

She shied away from serious relationships, yet refused to spend the night with a stranger. At twenty Wanda was close to very few people, only trusting and truly relying on two people; the Rogue and, recently, St John. Of course, her relationship with Eric and brother had not improved. In fact, her opinion of Pietro had deteriorated rapidly over the last few years, as every time she saw him he reminded her more and more of their father. Yet, even though she despised him, Wanda found herself vying for Eric's attention. Always to be knocked-back, of course; she seemed to be spending a lot of time on the metaphorical floor these days.

Wanda Maximoff – having officially abandoned her father's last name, the moment she was legally able to do so - did not count herself as having a life, she was merely stuck in a rut of activities that seemed to further her in no way at all; performing her way through life. She had been drowning since the age of ten; always struggling towards the surface, yet never reaching the air she craved. It took all of her energy to not allow herself to give in, even though she was unsure as to what exactly she was fighting for.

Sometimes she wished she could be more like her brother and just not care about a damn thing.

* * *

"Okay, whose smart idea was this?" The Roses - currently crowded around one of the club's tables organising the sets for that evening - turned to find a freshly showered Wanda Maximoff, gesturing to the pale pink shirt and Pineapple jogging trousers she was wearing.

"We figured Kitty was the best fit for you size-wise." Jean answered, as the others tried to control their laughter.

"And she didn't have anything a little less..._girly_? Maybe something in black?" Wanda huffed as she slumped into the empty chair between Rogue and Amara. "Urgh, I feel like death." Putting her head in her hands Wanda finally studied the faces that were peering at her, hovering on a one she didn't recognise. "Who are you?"

"Um, Katherine Pride..." The newest Rose stammered at being so rudely addressed. "Well, Kitty actually...the girl whose clothes you just insulted."

"How old are you anyway? Twelve?" Kitty's cheeks darkened slightly as she attempted to look affronted.

"Nineteen actually, not that it's any of your business."

"_Actually_ it is." Wanda twisted her head to look at Rogue enquiringly, before shaking her head and releasing a humourless laugh. "What the fuck is my father playing at now?" Her voice had thickened.

"What's goin' on Sugar?" Rogue questioned as she leant towards her friend, who sighed and closed her eyes. "Ah know ya ain't stupid enough ta get yaself blind drunk when ya got no one ta look out for ya. St John said ya were too wasted ta tell that ya were all set ta go home with a pretty dangerous guy. I know ya'll are too smart for that, so what gives?"

"Yesterday was the tenth anniversary of mum's death." The silence that followed the statement seemed to ring through the room like the clanging of a church bell.

"Oh God, Ah completely forgot –" Wanda cut Rogue off with another shake of her head, turning to stare at her own hands resting on the table.

"No, it's fine. It's been ten years, not as though I'm not used to it by now... But, I just..." Another sigh, followed by a deep intake of breath. "I just thought it might be nice to do a _family thing_, you know?"

"But Pie and your dad weren't as enthusiastic?" Rogue guessed.

"No, actually, they both agreed to come – which surprised me. I had it all organised; just a small dinner at that restaurant dad likes, I even called the day before to remind him. But, of course, when it came down to it I guess it was just too much effort to actually turn up."

"Wow, I'm sorry Wanda." Jean reached forward to clasp the younger girl's hands in her own. "I'm sure it wasn't personal."

"Yeah, maybe it was too sad a day for him?" Amara ventured tentatively, none of the Roses sure why exactly they were defending their boss. Wanda just scoffed.

"What about Pietro, did he go?" Rogue's voice was quiet and slightly shy. Wanda's eyes sought hers immediately, her hands pulling free of Jean's comforting grip as she leant away from the leader of the Roses.

"Of course you'd already know he was in town, wouldn't you?" Again a humourless laugh ripped from Wanda's throat. "I should have known he'd already paid _you_ a little visit. I'm surprised you're actually here Rogue, I would have thought you'd be at his beck and call all week."

"Don't be like that, Wand –"

"Like what? Disgusted that my brother gets our father to pay a prostitute – who just so happens to be a friend of mine – to entertain him?" The room was silent, as the group held their breath. The Rogue and Wanda Maximoff were both known for their extremely volatile tempers, the thought of them going head to head was not something that anyone wanted to deal with.

"Ah'm sorry Sugar, but Ah can't -"

"No, it's fine." Yet her tone seemed to suggest it was anything but. "I'm not blaming you for this; it's not your fault that I have a fucked-up family." Running her hands over her face, Wanda shifted back towards her friend and sighed.

"So I'm guessing Pietro decided to skip dinner as well?" Tabby pushed, resulting in yet another snort from Wanda.

"I wish. No Pietro actually turned up – something I wasn't expecting – which is why everything got so screwed-up. I mean, I only invited Pietro because of dad, but instead I had to suffer through dinner with him on my own."

"Why was that a problem?" Kitty recoiled slightly at the glare Wanda sent her way. "I mean, he's your brother isn't he?"

"Yeah well, _my brother _and I don't get along. We haven't been alone in each other's company for five years, and it didn't end well then either." The smile that graced Wanda's face was vaguely malicious, before falling into a troubled frown. "I just couldn't sit there listening to his obnoxiously polite small talk! I mean, why the fuck would dad say he was coming if he had no intentions of it? I'm so tired of all his bullshit."

"He probably just forgot. Ah'm sure he wasn't deliberately tryin' to upset ya, Sugar." Rogue ventured tentatively.

"Oh yeah, I guess I should have remembered that I'm the easily forgettable one; Pietro's the only child that bastard cares about." Sniffing and wiping her hands quickly across her eyes, Wanda pulled herself straighter in her chair. "But, you know what, I can't even think about dad right now. I'm so far past caring about that after last night... God, I really messed up."

"What happened?" Emma enquired.

"Pietro was just droning on about himself and acting as though the whole situation wasn't so damn tense and awkward. So I decided – in my infinite wisdom – to just ignore him and drink myself into a stupor; which backfired, of course. He kept trying to get me to talk, just being so fucking patronising and superior; I couldn't take it anymore! So I just started yelling at him, telling him exactly what I thought of him...telling him _everything._" Rogue was immediately sitting up straighter in alarm.

"What exactly do you mean by 'everythin''?" Wanda's eyes swam with tears as her cheeks darkened with guilt.

"Oh God, _Everything. _How much I hate him, how much I hate dad. I told him what I thought about dad's bullshit 'business' and what a spineless git Pietro is for blindly following him all the time. God, I told him about...about all the shit dad lets happen." Her breathes were coming faster now, leaving Wanda to stagger over her words as she looked imploringly at Rogue. "I told...I told him about you and... and Creed –" Rogue's breath hitched "About Betsy and Lorna...Oh God Rogue, I'm so sorry. I...I shouldn't have gotten you guys involved."

"Shhh, it's... it's fine, Sugar..." The Rogue tentatively reached a hand towards her friend's shoulder, before pulling it back at the last minute and crossing her arms across her chest instead. "It's not as though it wouldn't have come out eventually, anyway; everyone else seems ta bloody know." Wanda was shaking her head again and desperately trying to get her breathing under control.

"That's not all. I just couldn't make myself shut-up. He was just sitting there, not saying anything. I wanted him to understand how I feel; I just wanted him to see how screwed-up my life is because of him and dad. I'd had too much to drink and I...I told him about school and Duncan and how it was all dad's fault –" Rogue inwardly cringed; knowing Wanda's regrets and heartache over her teenage affair and how she blamed Eric for the bad decision. "Oh God, it's all just such a fucking mess!"

"Maybe it's a good thing, you know, finally getting all of these things out in the open." Amara soothed, stroking the girl's back.

"No, they were things dad and Pietro were never supposed to know. I could face them when everything was still hidden and not talked about. But now that he knows – and will probably tell dad the first chance he gets – I can't pretend to them anymore."

"How did Pie take it?" Rogue ventured. "What did he say?"

"Nothing." Wanda sniffed. "I bared my soul and all he did was sit and stare at me. I was hysterical - crying, shouting in his face – and he said nothing! He didn't even react at all, just looked at me like I was mad. _Who the hell does that?_!" With a deep breath she pulled her hands into her lap, pulling at the sleeves of the borrowed blouse. "I just ran out; left him sitting there on his own... I guess I must have decided it would be a good idea to drink some more and... Well, you know the rest." With a soft shrug, Wanda left the group in an awkward silence.

"Well, at least you probably won't have to talk to him for another five years...you know, like the last time you guys had a fight." Tabitha Smith smiled brightly.

"Thank you Tabby, that makes me feel so much better." Came Wanda's sarcastic reply. "Can I have that drink now?"

"Tell ya what, why doesn't Emma give Logan a call – give him the all clear and assure him that all of the 'girly drama' is dealt with – and tell him ta get ta work and make us some lunch?" Rogue's suggestion was met by a wiry smile.

"Does that mean I can hang-out for a while? What happened to the 'Wanda is banned from the club in case she gets corrupted'-rule?"

"Well Ah guess we can make an exception, just this once. What Eric doesn't know won't hurt him."

The girls shared a smile as Emma headed towards the phone behind the bar, the tension momentarily dissipated as they fell into the role of friends. The moment of relief didn't last long however, as it was interrupted by the appearance of Remy Lebeau – decked out in motorbike leathers and a helmet swinging from his left hand – at the entrance of the club. The girls fell into an apprehensive silence trying to gage the situation, leaving it to Tabby to break the tension.

"Where have you been all morning?"

"Remy got himself some transportation." He lifted the helmet as way of clarification. "It's a lot quicker than the company car, non?"

"Why do I get the feelin' that some poor bastard woke-up to an empty drive this mornin'?"(*) Rogue stood with her arms folded and an eyebrow quirked.

"Parce que y' bitter, cynical and like t' believe the worst in people?" He turned his attention away from his old friend and focussed on the rest of the girls, his eyes landing on Wanda with a slight nod of his head. "Y' are looking much better this morning, petite."

"I'm feeling it." Wanda's reply was cool as she turned to the others for answers.

"Um... why don't we go and see whether we can find you something a little less 'Kitty' to wear?" Amara declared as she snatched Tabby and Wanda's arms, leaving Jean to grab Kitty, and making their way backstage.

"Who the hell is that?" Wanda's question floated towards the two Southerners as the door swung shut behind the girls.

"Was it something I said?" Remy questioned as he stared down at the Rogue.

"Look Remy, Wanda ain't exactly havin' a good day, so could ya maybe cut her some slack?"

"Wow, Remy's been here for less than two minutes and y' already on his back 'bout something he hasn't even done yet. That must be some kind of record." He glared at her as he tried to move towards the door to their quarters, but Rogue stepped into his path and held up her hand to stop him.

"Remy, Ah know ya are under some kinda obligation ta Eric and that ya have ta tell him when we do somethin' we ain't supposed ta. Now, Ah'm pretty sure that entertaining his daughter is pretty high up the 'don't do' list, but Ah'm askin' ya ta just keep this one ta yaself; for Wanda's sake."

"Look _Anna_ -" his lips quirked at her obvious irritation of being addressed by her christened name, "Remy don't know what y' going on 'bout, but Mr Lensherr didn't say nothing about his daughter."

"Oh." Rogue's glare faltered as it dawned on her that she had just incriminated herself.

"Don't worry, Remy has no intention of telling Lensherr." He held up his hand as Rogue began to open her mouth to deliver a, no-doubt witty, retort. "Don't get me wrong Anna, Remy isn't here to do y' any favours – the moment _y'_ step over the line, I won't hesitate to report y' to the boss. But, like y' said, the Chere has had a rough day... and, besides, Remy knows a lil' something 'bout daddy-issues."

"Remy –" He, once again, held up a hand to stop her.

"Don't thank Remy." His glare turned into a sneer, as he ran his eyes up and down her body. "There isn't enough soap in the world to wash y' gratitude off of me." Rogue' eyes sparkled with anger.

"Ya really are an arrogant bastard aren't ya." Her voice was nothing but a hiss of rage

"An' y' a grubby lil' whore – it's all sticks and stones, _Anna_"

After lunch the rest of the Roses and Wanda were crowded back around the table, watching Rogue follow Logan around behind the bar - badgering him about something financial - whilst Tabby hunched close to Remy on a barstool.

"So, you really got a bike?" Tabitha enquired.

"Oui Petite, y' wanna go for a ride?" Remy smirked and raised his eyebrows causing Tabby to giggle, placing a hand on his arm.

"No bikes Tabby; bikes cause accidents, which lead ta scars, which means no clients." Rogue interrupted as she shuffled some papers on the bar in front of the pair.

"Who said Remy was talking 'bout the bike?" Rogue glared as Tabby's eyes surveyed Remy with a lustful smirk.

"God, you can cut the sexual tension in here with a knife." Wanda mumbled to the rest of the girls at the table, her eyes fixed in the direction of the bar.

"Oh, don't worry about that. Tabs is only play-flirting, she doesn't mean anything by it." Amara followed Wanda's gaze and smiling, causing the older woman to frown slightly.

"I wasn't actually talking about Tabby –" She cut herself off as Emma directed a glare her way. "Or, I could be wrong." Wanda shifted awkwardly as the other girls – with the exception of Emma – began to scowl, trying to interpret the meaning of her words. "Okay...So, who fancies taking the night off?"

"As much as I'd enjoy hanging out with you, you're not worth losing my job for Wand." Tabby announced as she and Rogue began making their way towards the group, leaving Remy to mumble something about _taking his 'baby' for a spin_, before swaggering towards the door.

"No, I meant that one of you should give me your slot tonight. Imagine dad's face if he was to walk in and find me on the stage, dancing for a club full of people." Her eyes widened with mischief as she stood up and twirled around. "I'm kinda already dressed for the part already." Wanda gestured towards the black vest-top and purple wrap-around jazz pants – which were currently sporting a slight split on either side, considering that Amara was at least a size smaller than her, so the sides didn't quite meet up.

"As _amusing_ as that would be, Ah think it's proably better if ya don't Sugar." Rogue rolled her eyes at her friend.

"Oh, come on! It will be well worth the bollocking you'll get, and you know it."

"Well, that is certainly up for debate. However, Ah'm sorry ta have ta tell ya this Wand, but there's a little more ta it then just dressin' the part."

"You don't think I've got what it takes? I'll have you know that I took a class in pole-dancing." At Rogue's look of disbelief, Wanda waltzed over to the stage and hauled herself up next to the pole. "If you wouldn't mind choosing me some appropriate music, Jean?"

As the first bars reached their ears – the Rogue rolling her eyes at the rather predictable choice of '_Dirrty'_ - the Roses whooped and cheered their friend on as she began to showcase her 'talents'. It took a few beats for Wanda to get in time with the music, but she was soon gaining in confidence. She started to swing around the pole, with great encouragement from the others; performing a seemingly complicated montage of tricks.

"No, Ah'm sorry but ya just ain't doin' it for me Sugar." Rogue tutted in mock-disapproval. "Ya see, that's the problem with these class-things; they're all about the stunts. They don't teach ya what ya really need ta know." Rogue ascended the stage to stand behind her scowling friend. "Only girls are impressed with how many complicated tricks ya can pull, the guys only want the sexy."

"Oh for Pete's sake." Logan exclaimed, as Rogue grabbed Wanda's hips and began provocatively grinding her against the pole.

Soon, the rest of the girls had joined them on the stage, eager to flaunt their own skills. Dancing, laughing and – in some cases – singing together, all seven girls completely forgot the world around them. Even Logan, who was vaguely uncomfortable watching the arousing display, couldn't help but allow a smile through his embarrassment. They were enjoying themselves, completely innocent and carefree – even if it was slightly disturbing, if you were to look at it too closely.

"_What_ exactly is going on here?" The girls froze as the unmistakable voice of Eric Lensherr interrupted their vivacity. He stood in the doorway, the light behind him causing a vast shadow to stretch across the room. Beside him stood the hulking mass of Piotr Rasputin, who was attempting to appear as unimposing as possible in the uncomfortable silence. Eric's face was tinged with an angry flush, his eyes narrowing at the scene before him. "Wanda, I think it would be best if you left now." His glare lingered over his daughter's face for a moment longer, before turning its full intensity on Rogue. "My office!"

"Dad, this isn't anything to do with Rogue, or the others." Wanda took a tentative step towards her father.

"Do not try my patience, Wanda!" His sharp tone caused her to shift backwards again. "It's time for you to leave. Rogue; my office, now!" As he began to storm towards the backstage-door, Wanda sprang forward into his path.

"No dad, don't blame them for this. This is all on me, right?"

"I will deal with you later, now go."

"Dad, wait!" Once again, she visibly shrank back as her father rounded on her.

"Wanda, I have asked you, time and time again, not to come here; this is no place for a girl of your age to be spending time."

"That's bullshit, Rogue is three months younger than me and she bloody works here!"

"That is completely beside the point, Wanda. I am not discussing the club or my business with you, that is none of your concern –"

"Alright, let's talk about something that is 'my concern'. How about last night dad, huh? Why don't we talk about that, because that's why I'm here after all!"

"We will talk later. Now leave."

"No!" Her voice resonated throughout the sharply silent room, causing all but Lensherr to hold their breath in fear. "You are not just going to fob me off with the 'not now' crap. I'm tired of waiting for 'later' to never come. I want to know now, dad; why weren't you there last night?" Eric seemed taken aback for a second, but his recover was exceptional.

"I have more important things to do than be at your beck and call, Wanda; I am a very busy man."

"Yeah, everything else was always more important than mum wasn't it?" Rogue took an involuntary step forward, fearing for a moment that Eric might strike his daughter. But Wanda fronted her senior out; standing her ground, with eyes hard enough to rival his. "You never gave a damn about her and you don't give a damn about me."

She seemed to be waiting for a response, but resounding silence seemed to be the only answer he could give. Folding her arms across her chest, Wanda took as step back.

**"_...Mama never loved her much  
And daddy never keeps in touch  
That's why she shies away from human affection..."  
_**

"Right then." She took in a shuddering breath, her eyes lined with mist-like moisture. "I'll be off to fuck up my life some more, shall I? Unless, of course, that was already on your 'to-do list' for today?" The remark, directed at Eric, lacked any sort of conviction as she punctuated it with a sniff and a tearful laugh. Still he just stared, his eyes betraying no emotion but his stern glare. "Well, I'll see you at Christmas. Be sure to say hello to Raven – or whoever is your _whore-du-jour_ – for me." She grabbed her phone from the table and was almost out of the door, before shooting her last comment back at the man, unmoving, in the middle of the room. "I hope she was really worth it; I'd hate to think I was overlooked just for some sub-par shag."

The clanging thump of the front door swinging shut caused a ripple of tension to sweep over the room, seizing all of its inhabitants with the overbearing sensation of apprehension as they waited for the inevitable explosion.

"Rogue; my office, _now_."

* * *

**"_...But somewhere in a private place  
She packs her bags for outer space  
And now she's waiting for  
The right kind of pilot to come..."  
_**

Wanda's heart was pounding as she finally reached the fresh air, causing her head to spin with a mixture of adrenaline and dehydration from the previous night. She stumble to the wall of the club and rested her feverish forehead against the cool brick wall. Eyes closed at the sensation, she drifted out of consciousness for a moment, before startling awake as her phone emitted a chain of obnoxiously loud tones; signalling a number of missed calls. However, just as she was about to pick up the messages, the phone began to ring again; a live call from an unknown number.

"Hello?" Her eyes widened at the hurried voice on the other end of the phone. All she could do was stutter at the tirade the reached her ear, unable to fit so much as half a word in.

**"_...I would fly you to the moon and back  
If you'll be, if you'll be my baby  
Got a ticket for a world where we belong  
So, would you be my baby?"_**

**_

* * *

_**

**A/N: **So there you have it folks, an extra long one to make up for the fact that I am such a neglectful updater! Oh and just to give a little extra spice to my apology, that little prequel I was talking about in my earlier A/N – which will be full of Romy angst – will be a one-shot entitle _Hurting You,_ and will hopefully be up in the not so distant future (I hope). I also have an almost complete HP story, if any of you are into that fandom, so keep checking my page for them if you are interested.

(*) Just a little Prison Break humour for you.


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